![]() My Finn informed me that Gatsby had dismissed every servant in his house a week ago and replaced them with half a dozen others, who never went into West Egg Village to be bribed by the tradesmen, but ordered moderate supplies over the telephone. All right, I’ll tell him.” Abruptly he slammed the door. Carraway came over.” “Who?” he demanded rudely. “I hadn’t seen him around, and I was rather worried. ![]() Gatsby sick?” “Nope.” After a pause he added “sir.” in a dilatory, grudging way. Wondering if he were sick I went over to find out-an unfamiliar butler with a villainous face squinted at me suspiciously from the door. Only gradually did I become aware that the automobiles which turned expectantly into his drive stayed for just a minute and then drove sulkily away. 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.
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