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1He was employed in a vague personal capacity--while he remained with Cody he was in turn steward, mate, skipper,
2secretary, and even jailor, for Dan Cody sober knew what lavish doings Dan Cody drunk might soon be about, and he
3provided for such contingencies by reposing more and more trust in Gatsby. The arrangement lasted five years, during
4which the boat went three times around the Continent. It might have lasted indefinitely except for the fact that Ella
5Kaye came on board one night in Boston and a week later Dan Cody inhospitably died. I remember the portrait of him up in
6Gatsby's bedroom, a grey, florid man with a hard, empty face--the pioneer debauchee, who during one phase of American
7life brought back to the Eastern seaboard the savage violence of the frontier brothel and saloon. It was indirectly due
8to Cody that Gatsby drank so little. Sometimes in the course of gay parties women used to rub champagne into his hair;
9for himself he formed the habit of letting liquor alone. And it was from Cody that he inherited money--a legacy of
10twenty-five thousand dollars. He didn't get it. He never understood the legal device that was used against him, but what
11remained of the millions went intact to Ella Kaye. He was left with his singularly appropriate education; the vague
12contour of Jay Gatsby had filled out to the substantiality of a man.
13------------------------------------------------------------------------ He told me all this very much later, but I've
14put it down here with the idea of exploding those first wild rumours about his antecedents, which weren't even faintly
15true. Moreover he told it to me at a time of confusion, when I had reached the point of believing everything and nothing
16about him. So I take advantage of this short halt, while Gatsby, so to speak, caught his breath, to clear this set of
17misconceptions away. It was a halt, too, in my association with his affairs. For several weeks I didn't see him or hear
18his voice on the phone--mostly I was in New York, trotting around with Jordan and trying to ingratiate myself with her
19senile aunt--but finally I went over to his house one Sunday afternoon. I hadn't been there two minutes when somebody
20brought Tom Buchanan in for a drink. I was startled, naturally, but the really surprising thing was that it hadn't
21happened before. They were a party of three on horseback--Tom and a man named Sloane and a pretty woman in a brown
22riding-habit, who had been there previously. "I'm delighted to see you," said Gatsby, standing on his porch. "I'm
23delighted that you dropped in." As though they cared! "Sit right down. Have a cigarette or a cigar." He walked around
24the room quickly, ringing bells. "I'll have something to drink for you in just a minute." He was profoundly affected by
25the fact that Tom was there. But he would be uneasy anyhow until he had given them something, realizing in a vague way
26that that was all they came for. Mr. Sloane wanted nothing. A lemonade? No, thanks. A little champagne? Nothing at all,
27thanks … I'm sorry-- "Did you have a nice ride?" "Very good roads around here." "I suppose the automobiles--" "Yeah."
28Moved by an irresistible impulse, Gatsby turned to Tom, who had accepted the introduction as a stranger. "I believe
29we've met somewhere before, Mr. Buchanan." "Oh, yes," said Tom, gruffly polite, but obviously not remembering. "So we
30did. I remember very well." "About two weeks ago." "That's right. You were with Nick here." "I know your wife,"
31continued Gatsby, almost aggressively. "That so?" Tom turned to me. "You live near here, Nick?" "Next door." "That so?"
32Mr. Sloane didn't enter into the conversation, but lounged back haughtily in his chair; the woman said nothing
33either--until unexpectedly, after two highballs, she became cordial. "We'll all come over to your next party, Mr.
34Gatsby," she suggested. "What do you say?" "Certainly; I'd be delighted to have you." "Be ver' nice," said Mr. Sloane,
35without gratitude. "Well--think ought to be starting home." "Please don't hurry," Gatsby urged them. He had control of
36himself now, and he wanted to see more of Tom. "Why don't you--why don't you stay for supper? I wouldn't be surprised if
37some other people dropped in from New York." "You come to supper with me," said the lady enthusiastically. "Both of
38you." This included me. Mr. Sloane got to his feet. "Come along," he said--but to her only. "I mean it," she insisted.
39"I'd love to have you. Lots of room." Gatsby looked at me questioningly. He wanted to go and he didn't see that Mr.
40Sloane had determined he shouldn't. "I'm afraid I won't be able to," I said. "Well, you come," she urged, concentrating
41on Gatsby. Mr. Sloane murmured something close to her ear. "We won't be late if we start now," she insisted aloud. "I
42haven't got a horse," said Gatsby. "I used to ride in the army, but I've never bought a horse. I'll have to follow you
43in my car. Excuse me for just a minute." The rest of us walked out on the porch, where Sloane and the lady began an
44impassioned conversation aside. "My God, I believe the man's coming," said Tom. "Doesn't he know she doesn't want him?"
45"She says she does want him." "She has a big dinner party and he won't know a soul there." He frowned. "I wonder where
46in the devil he met Daisy. By God, I may be old-fashioned in my ideas, but women run around too much these days to suit
47me. They meet all kinds of crazy fish." Suddenly Mr. Sloane and the lady walked down the steps and mounted their horses.
48"Come on," said Mr. Sloane to Tom, "we're late. We've got to go." And then to me: "Tell him we couldn't wait, will you?"
49Tom and I shook hands, the rest of us exchanged a cool nod, and they trotted quickly down the drive, disappearing under
50the August foliage just as Gatsby, with hat and light overcoat in hand, came out the front door. Tom was evidently
51perturbed at Daisy's running around alone, for on the following Saturday night he came with her to Gatsby's party.
52Perhaps his presence gave the evening its peculiar quality of oppressiveness--it stands out in my memory from Gatsby's
53other parties that summer. There were the same people, or at least the same sort of people, the same profusion of
54champagne, the same many-coloured, many-keyed commotion, but I felt an unpleasantness in the air, a pervading harshness
55that hadn't been there before. Or perhaps I had merely grown used to it, grown to accept West Egg as a world complete in
56itself, with its own standards and its own great figures, second to nothing because it had no consciousness of being so,
57and now I was looking at it again, through Daisy's eyes. It is invariably saddening to look through new eyes at things
58upon which you have expended your own powers of adjustment. They arrived at twilight, and, as we strolled out among the
59sparkling hundreds, Daisy's voice was playing murmurous tricks in her throat. "These things excite me so," she
60whispered. "If you want to kiss me any time during the evening, Nick, just let me know and I'll be glad to arrange it
61for you. Just mention my name. Or present a green card. I'm giving out green--" "Look around," suggested Gatsby. "I'm
62looking around. I'm having a marvellous--" "You must see the faces of many people you've heard about." Tom's arrogant
63eyes roamed the crowd. "We don't go around very much," he said; "in fact, I was just thinking I don't know a soul here."
64"Perhaps you know that lady." Gatsby indicated a gorgeous, scarcely human orchid of a woman who sat in state under a
65white-plum tree. Tom and Daisy stared, with that peculiarly unreal feeling that accompanies the recognition of a
66hitherto ghostly celebrity of the movies. "She's lovely," said Daisy. "The man bending over her is her director." He
67took them ceremoniously from group to group: "Mrs. Buchanan … and Mr. Buchanan--" After an instant's hesitation he
68added: "the polo player." "Oh no," objected Tom quickly, "not me." But evidently the sound of it pleased Gatsby for Tom
69remained "the polo player" for the rest of the evening. "I've never met so many celebrities," Daisy exclaimed. "I liked
70that man--what was his name?--with the sort of blue nose." Gatsby identified him, adding that he was a small producer.
71"Well, I liked him anyhow." "I'd a little rather not be the polo player," said Tom pleasantly, "I'd rather look at all
72these famous people in--in oblivion."
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