Великий Гэтсби

           Thedayagreeduponwaspouringrain.Ateleveno’clockamaninaraincoat,draggingalawn-mower,tappedatmyfrontdoorandsaidthatMr.Gatsbyhadsenthimovertocutmygrass.ThisremindedmethatIhadforgottentotellmyFinntocomeback,soIdroveintoWestEggVillagetosearchforheramongsoggy,whitewashedalleysandtobuysomecupsandlemonsandflowers.

           Theflowerswereunnecessary,forattwoo’clockagreenhousearrivedfromGatsby’s,withinnumerablereceptaclestocontainit.Anhourlaterthefrontdooropenednervously,andGatsby,inawhiteflannelsuit,silvershirt,andgold-coloredtie,hurriedin.Hewaspale,andthereweredarksignsofsleeplessnessbeneathhiseyes.

           "Iseverythingallright?"heaskedimmediately.

           "Thegrasslooksfine,ifthat’swhatyoumean."

           "Whatgrass?"heinquiredblankly."Oh,thegrassintheyard."Helookedoutthewindowatit,but,judgingfromhisexpression,Idon’tbelievehesawathing.

           "Looksverygood,"heremarkedvaguely."Oneofthepaperssaidtheythoughttherainwouldstopaboutfour.IthinkitwastheJournal.Haveyougoteverythingyouneedintheshapeof—oftea?"

           Itookhimintothepantry,wherehelookedalittlereproachfullyattheFinn.Togetherwescrutinizedthetwelvelemoncakesfromthedelicatessenshop.

           "Willtheydo?"Iasked.

           "Ofcourse,ofcourse!They’refine!"andheaddedhollowly,"...oldsport."