In his blue gardens…
men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars.
And on Mondays eight servants….
including an extra gardener, toiled all day with mops and scrubbing-brushes and hammers and garden-shears, repairing the ravages of the night before
The bar is in full swing….
and floating rounds of cocktails permeate the garden outside, until the air is alive with chatter and laughter, and casual innuendo and introductions forgotten on the spot, and enthusiastic meetings between women who never knew each other’s names.
I had been actually invited….
A chauffeur in a uniform of robin’s-egg blue crossed my lawn early that Saturday morning with a surprisingly formal note […]—signed Jay Gatsby, in a majestic hand
Absolutely real….
—have pages and everything.[…] This fella’s a regular Belasco
By midnight the hilarity had increased…
A celebrated tenor had sung in Italian, and a notorious contralto had sung in jazz, and between the numbers people were doing “stunts” all over the garden, while happy, vacuous bursts of laughter rose toward the summer sky.
We talked for a moment about some wet, grey little villages in France….
Evidently he lived in this vicinity, for he told me that he had just bought a hydroplane, and was going to try it out in the morning.
Want to go with me…
old sport? Just near the shore along the Sound
It was one of those rare….
smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it.
an elegant…
young roughneck
She had drunk a quantity of champagne….
and during the course of her song she had decided, ineptly, that everything was very, very sad—she was not only singing, she was weeping too.
Philadelphia wants…
you on the phone, sir.”
Back out,” he suggested…
after a moment. “Put her in reverse.”
“But the wheel’s off!”
I began to like New York….
the racy, adventurous feel of it at night
At the enchanted metropolitan twilight….
I felt a haunting loneliness sometimes.
You’re a…..
rotten driver
I am one of the few….
honest people that I have ever known
