F. Scott Fitzgerald
The Great Gatsby “Well, the fact is — the truth of the matter is that I‟m
staying with some people up here in Greenwich, and they rather expect me to be with them to-morrow. In fact, there‟s a sort of picnic or something. Of course I‟ll do my very best to get away.” I ejaculated an unrestrained “Huh!” and he must have
heard me, for he went on nervously: “What I called up about was a pair of shoes I left there.
Iwonder if it‟d be too much trouble to have the butler send them on. You see, they‟re tennis shoes, and I‟m sort of helpless without them. My address is care of B. F.——” I didn‟t hear the rest of the name, because I hung up the
receiver. After that I felt a certain shame for Gatsby —one gentleman
to whom I telephoned implied that he had got what he deserved. However, that was my fault, for he was one of those who used to sneer most bitterly at Gatsby on the courage of Gatsby‟s liquor, and I should have known better than to call him. The morning of the funeral I went up to New York to see
Meyer Wolfsheim; I couldn‟t seem to reach him any other way. The door that I pushed open, on the advice of an elevator boy, was marked “The Swastika Holding Company,” and at first