It was when curiosity about Gatsby was at its highest that the lights in his house failed to go on one Saturday night - and, as obscurely as it had begun, his career as Trimalchio was over. Only gradu

The next day was broiling, almost the last, certainly the warmest, of the summer. As my train emerged from the tunnel into sunlight, only the hot whistles of the National Biscuit Company broke the sim

"The rumour is," whispered Jordan, "that that's Tom's girl on the telephone." We were silent. The voice in the hall rose high with annoyance: "Very well, then, I won't sell you the car at all ... I'm