'I thought you might be here,' she responded absently as I came up. 'I remembered you lived next door to—'
She held my hand impersonally, as a promise that she'd take care of me in a minute, and gave ear to two girls in twin yellow dresses, who stopped at the foot of the steps.
'Hello!' they cried together. 'Sorry you didn't win.'
That was for the golf tournament. She had lost in the finals the week before.
'You don't know who we are,' said one of the girls in yellow, 'but we met you here about a month ago.'
'You've dyed your hair since then,' remarked Jordan, and I started, but the girls had moved casually on and her remark was addressed to the premature moon, produced like the supper, no doubt, out of a caterer's basket. With Jordan's slender golden arm resting in mine, we descended the steps and sauntered about the garden. A tray of cocktails floated at us through the twilight, and we sat down at a table with the two girls in yellow and three men, each one introduced to us as Mr Mumble.
'Do you come to these parties often?' enquired Jordan of the girl beside her.
'The last one was the one I met you at,' answered the girl, in an alert confident voice. She turned to her companion: 'Wasn't it for you, Lucille?'
It was for Lucille, too.
'I like to come,' Lucille said. 'I never care what I do, so I always have a good time. When I was here last I tore my gown on a chair, and he asked me my name and address—inside of a week I got a package from Croirier's with a new evening gown in it.'
'Did you keep it?' asked Jordan.
'Sure I did. I was going to wear it tonight, but it was too big in the bust and had to be altered. It was gas blue with lavender beads. Two hundred and sixty-five dollars.'
'There's something funny about a fellow that'll do a thing like that,' said the other girl eagerly. 'He doesn't want any trouble with anybody.'
'Who doesn't?' I enquired.
'Gatsby. Somebody told me—'
The two girls and Jordan leaned together confidentially.
'Somebody told me they thought he killed a man once.'