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“ What do you think ? ” he asked us excitedly . He waved his hand towards the shelves . “ They’re real . Absolutely real . They have pages and everything . I thought they’d be nice strong cardboard . This fellow knows how to put on a show . And he knew when to stop : he didn’t cut the pages . ” In those days new books often came with their pages still joined at the edges , so a book with uncut pages had never been read . We shook hands with him seriously and went back outside . There was dancing now on the canvas in the garden , and by midnight the noise had grown louder . The moon had risen higher , and on the water of the Sound lay a triangle of silver scales . I was still with Jordan . We were sitting at a table with a man of about my own age , who looked at me and smiled . “ Your face is familiar , ” he said politely . “ Weren’t you in the First Division during the war ? ” “ Why , yes . I was in the Twenty - eighth Infantry . ” “ I was in the Sixteenth until June 1918 . I knew I’d seen you somewhere before . ” He told me that he had just bought a seaplane and was going to try it out in the morning . “ Want to go with me , old sport ? Just near the shore along the Sound . ” “ What time ? ” “ Any time that suits you best . ” “ This is an unusual party for me , ” I said . “ I haven’t even seen the host . I live over there , and this man Gatsby sent his driver over with an invitation . ” For a moment he looked at me as if he did not understand . “ I’m Gatsby , ” he said suddenly . “ What ! ” I cried . “ Oh , I beg your pardon . ” “ I thought you knew , old sport . I’m afraid I’m not a very good host . ” He smiled kindly , much more than kindly . It was one of those rare smiles that you may meet four or five times in your life . For an instant it seemed to face the whole world , and then it turned to you with a strong wish to think well of you . It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood . It believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself . Then it vanished , and I was looking at an elegant young tough , a year or two over thirty , who chose his words so carefully that he almost sounded absurd . V . Old Sport Almost at once a butler hurried towards Gatsby and told him that Chicago was calling him on the telephone . He excused himself with a small bow to each of us . “ If you want anything , just ask for it , old sport , ” he said . “ Excuse me . I will rejoin you later . ” When he had gone , I turned to Jordan . I had expected Mr Gatsby to be a fat , red - faced man in his middle years . “ Who is he ? ” I asked . “ Where is he from ? And what does he do ? ”
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