Великий Гэтсби / The Great Gatsby

Their house was even more elaborate than I expected. The lawn started at the beach and ran toward the front door for a quarter of a mile. The front was broken by a line of French windows, glowing now with reflected gold, and wide open to the warm windy afternoon, and Tom Buchanan in riding clothes was standing on the front porch.

Tom had changed since his New Haven years. Now he was a sturdy straw haired man of thirty with a rather hard mouth and a supercilious manner.

He could not hide the enormous power of his body.

His voice was a gruff husky tenor. “Now, don’t think my opinion on these matters is final,” he seemed to say, “just because I’m stronger and more of a man than you are.” We were in the same Senior Society[6 - Senior Society – студенческое общество], and while we were never intimate I always had the impression that he wanted me to like him.

We talked for a few minutes on the sunny porch.

“I’ve got a nice place here,” he said.

We walked through a high hallway into a bright rosy-colored space. The windows were ajar and gleaming. A breeze blew through the room, blew curtains in at one end and out the other like pale flags.

The only completely stationary object in the room was an enormous couch on which two young women were lying. They were both in white. I stood for a few moments listening to the whip and snap of the curtains and the groan of a picture on the wall.

Tom Buchanan shut the rear windows and the caught wind died out about the room. The younger of the two was a stranger to me. She was completely motionless and with her chin raised a little.

The other girl, Daisy, made an attempt to rise. She leaned slightly forward—then she laughed, an absurd, charming little laugh, and I laughed too and came forward into the room.

“I’m p-paralyzed with happiness.”

She laughed again, and held my hand for a moment, looking up into my face.

She murmured that the surname of the other girl was Baker. Miss Baker’s lips fluttered, she nodded at me and then quickly tipped her head back again.

I looked back at my cousin who began to ask me questions in her low, thrilling voice. Her face was sad and lovely with bright things in it, bright eyes and a bright passionate mouth.

I told her how I had visited in Chicago some friends and how a dozen people had sent her their love.