Великий Гэтсби

           Thebar,whereweglancedfirst,wascrowded,butGatsbywasnotthere.Shecouldn’tfindhimfromthetopofthesteps,andhewasn’tontheveranda.Onachancewetriedanimportant-lookingdoor,andwalkedintoahighGothiclibrary,panelledwithcarvedEnglishoak,andprobablytransportedcompletefromsomeruinoverseas.

           Astout,middle-agedman,withenormousowl-eyedspectacles,wassittingsomewhatdrunkontheedgeofagreattable,staringwithunsteadyconcentrationattheshelvesofbooks.AsweenteredhewheeledexcitedlyaroundandexaminedJordanfromheadtofoot.

           "Whatdoyouthink?"hedemandedimpetuously.

           "Aboutwhat?"Hewavedhishandtowardthebook-shelves.

           "Aboutthat.Asamatteroffactyouneedn’tbothertoascertain.Iascertained.They’rereal."

           "Thebooks?"

           Henodded.

           "Absolutelyreal—havepagesandeverything.Ithoughtthey’dbeanicedurablecardboard.Matteroffact,they’reabsolutelyreal.Pagesand—Here!Lemmeshowyou."

           Takingourscepticismforgranted,herushedtothebookcasesandreturnedwithVolumeOneofthe"StoddardLectures."

           "See!"hecriedtriumphantly."It’sabona-fidepieceofprintedmatter.Itfooledme.Thisfella’saregularBelasco.It’satriumph.Whatthoroughness!Whatrealism!Knewwhentostop,too—didn’tcutthepages.Butwhatdoyouwant?Whatdoyouexpect?"