Великий Гэтсби

           Aboutfiveo’clockourprocessionofthreecarsreachedthecemeteryandstoppedinathickdrizzlebesidethegate—firstamotorhearse,horriblyblackandwet,thenMr.GatzandtheministerandIinthelimousine,andalittlelaterfourorfiveservantsandthepostmanfromWestEgginGatsby’sstationwagon,allwettotheskin.AswestartedthroughthegateintothecemeteryIheardacarstopandthenthesoundofsomeonesplashingafterusoverthesoggyground.Ilookedaround.Itwasthemanwithowl-eyedglasseswhomIhadfoundmarvellingoverGatsby’sbooksinthelibraryonenightthreemonthsbefore.

           I’dneverseenhimsincethen.Idon’tknowhowheknewaboutthefuneral,orevenhisname.Therainpoureddownhisthickglasses,andhetookthemoffandwipedthemtoseetheprotectingcanvasunrolledfromGatsby’sgrave.

           ItriedtothinkaboutGatsbythenforamoment,buthewasalreadytoofaraway,andIcouldonlyremember,withoutresentment,thatDaisyhadn’tsentamessageoraflower.DimlyIheardsomeonemurmur,"Blessedarethedeadthattherainfallson,"andthentheowl-eyedmansaid"Amentothat,"inabravevoice.

           Westraggleddownquicklythroughtheraintothecars.Owl-eyesspoketomebythegate.

           "Icouldn’tgettothehouse,"heremarked.

           "Neithercouldanybodyelse."

           "Goon!"Hestarted."Why,myGod!theyusedtogotherebythehundreds."Hetookoffhisglassesandwipedthemagain,outsideandin.