[,hɑ:f'weɪ] – adv на полпути
host [həʊst] – v организовывать
house [haʊz] – v содержать
insist [ɪn'sɪst] – v настаивать
instruct [ɪn'strʌkt] – v давать инструкции
interrupt [,ɪntə'rʌpt] – v прерывать
mask [mɑ:sk] – v скрывать
mistress ['mɪstrəs] – n любовница
peculiar [pɪ'kju:liər] – adj своеобразный
plump [plʌmp] – adj полный, пухлый
presence ['prezəns] – n присутствие
proceed [prə'si:d] – v продолжать
regret [rɪ'ɡret] – v сожалеть
spiritless ['spɪr.ɪt.ləs] – adj вялый
train car [treɪn kɑ:] – n вагон
vitality [vaɪ'tæləti] – n энергичность
wasteland ['weɪstlænd] – n пустырь
watchful ['wɒtʃfəl] – adj бдительный
Chapter 3
In the summer, my neighbor's house was always filled with music and laughter. Every week, boxes of lemons and oranges were delivered to his house from New York. Every two weeks, servants brought in enough Christmas lights to decorate every tree in Gatsby's garden. On buffet tables, there were always dozens of salads and roast turkeys, and so many beverages that it was hard to remember the name of each. The orchestra would arrive in the evening with their musical instruments and entertain the guests who had just returned from the pool. Every Monday, a team of eight servants and a gardener worked tirelessly to clean up the mess.
Guests usually arrived at Gatsby's house uninvited, drawn by the luxury of his gatherings. They introduced themselves to a couple of people they met there and started acting as if they were in an amusement park.
I was one of the few who had actually received an invitation.
That morning, a driver in a uniform delivered a note from Gatsby himself, inviting me to join his party that evening. After seven, I made my way to Gatsby's house, and felt out of place when I arrived, as I wandered among the throngs of well-dressed strangers. People moved from one group to another, forming and dissolving connections in an instant. I asked some of them if the knew where I could find the host, but they just stared at me with amazement in their eyes. Feeling embarrassed, I bumped into Jordan Baker, who was looking down the garden. Maybe I wasn't welcome, but I joined her anyway, as I wanted to attach myself to someone in this chaotic crowd.
Soon, I heard the wildest rumors about Gatsby. Some said that he had killed a man once, that he was a German spy, and other speculations.
We wandered around the mansion and walked into the library. There, a plump man couldn't stop admiring the collection of books. Jordan and I sat down at another table. Among the guests, I saw a man of about my age. He approached me politely, asking me if had been in the Third Division during the war. I had – that's why the man looked familiar to me. We spoke about our military past, and he invited me to join him for a walk tomorrow. Excited that I found someone to talk to, I mentioned that I couldn't find Gatsby.
“I'm Gatsby,” he said, “I'm afraid I haven't been a very good host, old sport.”
I apologized, but he just smiled at me. His smile was rare. It was full of reassurance that you do not come across often. However, when a butler hurried towards him to say someone from Chicago was on the phone, the smile vanished, and Gatsby excused himself.
I turned immediately to Jordan.
“Who is he really?”
“Just some man named Gatsby. He told me he had studied in Oxford, but I don't believe it,” she shrugged her shoulders.
Jordan's tone was similar to the girls' who shared stories of Gatsby being a spy, but it stimulated my curiosity. I wanted to know how he appeared out of nowhere and was able to purchase a house on Long Island.
“Anyway, he hosts huge parties, and I like them. At small parties, there just isn't any privacy,” Jordan noted.
Suddenly, Gatsby's butler appeared next to us.
“Miss Baker? Mr. Gatsby would like to speak to you in private.”
Astonished, Jordan followed the butler into the house.
I was waiting in the hall when the door of the library opened, and Jordan and Gatsby walked out together. He was saying something to her, but his excitement disappeared as soon as other guests started coming up to him to say goodbye. Jordan's friends were rushing her, but she stopped next to me and lingered for a while.
“I have just heard the most amazing thing,” she whispered, “how long were we in there?”
“About an hour, why?”
“Well, I promised not to tell anyone. But it's simply amazing! So here I am, teasing you… Come and see me! Find my aunt's name in the phone book,” she spoke quickly before disappearing in the crowd.
The party was fading away into the early morning hours. Feeling embarrassed that I had been staying for so long, I went to find Gatsby to apologize one more time.
“Don't mention it,” he said kindly and put a hand on my shoulder, “and don't forget we're going for a walk tomorrow.”
The butler appeared once again to tell Gatsby someone from Philadelphia was calling. He wished me goodnight, and I felt glad to be one of the last to leave.
Now that I think of that summer, it may look like I was completely absorbed by these parties, but it wasn't so. I spent most of my time working in New York, where I had a routine that involved working at a place called the Probity Trust. I knew other employees and salesmen pretty well, and we often had lunch in dark crowded restaurants, where I ordered sausages and mashed potatoes and drank coffee. Apart from that, I started a relationship with a girl from the accounting department, but her brother disliked me, so our relationship didn't last long. I dined at the Yale Club and studied investments in the library. My days were filled with work, but I found myself increasinglydrawn to the city's energy at night. I liked the adventurous feel of New York after dark, walking through the streets, imagining the lives of the people I passed, and feeling a connection to the city's restless spirit. However, this sense of connection was often paired with loneliness, especially when I saw others actively enjoying the city's nightlife while I remained an observer.
During the summer, I found Jordan Baker again. I was flattered to be seen with her because she was a famous golf champion and everyone knew her name, but my feelings grew more complex. I wasn't in love, but I felt a tender curiosity about her. When we went out one time, she left a rented car with the roof down, and it started raining. Jordan lied about it, and I recalled a story I read about her in the press. The newspapers and magazines claimed that during her first big golf