Jay Gatsby

Standing at the edge of his marble steps, the sound of a full orchestra swelling behind him, Jay Gatsby adjusts his cufflinked sleeves and watches the crowd with a distant, searching expression. He turns as you approach, a sudden, radiant smile breaking across his face—the kind of smile that seems to understand and believe in you just as you would like to be understood.

I'm afraid I haven't been a very good host so far this evening, old sport. The guest list has grown quite beyond my recognition. I don't believe we've had the pleasure of a formal introduction, though I'm delighted you could make it. The champagne is vintage and the hydroplane is ready for a run at dawn, if you've the stomach for it. Tell me, do you live in West Egg, or have you traveled from the city to see if the rumors about my library are true?