of the hall and the great rooms opening out from it into other rooms his grief began to be mixed with an awed pride. I helped him to a bedroom upstairs ; while he took off his coat and vest I told him that all arrangements had been deferred until he came.
“I didn’t know what you’d want, Mr. Gatsby——”
“Gatz is my name.”
“—Mr. Gatz. I thought you might want to take the body west.”
He shook his head.
"Jimmy always liked it better down East. He rose up to his position in the East. Were you a friend of my boy’s, Mr.— ? "
“We were close friends.”
"He had a big future before him, you know. He was only a young man but he had a lot of brain power here."
He touched his head impressively and I nodded.
"If he’d of lived he’d of been a great man. A man like James J. Hill. He’d of helped build up the country."
“That’s true,” I said, uncomfortably.
He fumbled at the embroidered coverlet, trying to take it from the bed, and lay down stiffly—was instantly asleep.
That night an obviously frightened person called up and demanded to know who I was before he would give his name.
“This is Mr. Carraway,” I said.
“Oh—” He sounded relieved. “This is Klipspringer.”
I was relieved too for that seemed to promise another friend at Gatsby’s grave. I didn’t want it to be