Suddenly one of these gypsies in trembling opal, seizes a cocktail out of the air, dumps it down for courage and mov-ing her hands like Frisco dances out alone on the canvas platform. A momentary hush; the orchestra leader varies his rhythm obligingly for her and there is a burst of chatter as the erroneous news goes around that she is Gilda Gray’s understudy from the ‘Follies.’The party has begun.

‘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 inquired. ‘Gatsby. Somebody told me——‘

The two girls and Jordan leaned together confidentially. ‘Somebody told me they thought he killed a man once.’ A thrill passed over all of us. The three Mr. Mumbles bent forward and listened eagerly.

‘I don’t think it’s so much THAT,’ argued Lucille skepti-cally; ‘it’s more that he was a German spy during the war.’

One of the men nodded in confirmation.

‘I heard that from a man who knew all about him, grew up with him in Germany,’ he assured us positively.

‘Oh, no,’ said the first girl, ‘it couldn’t be that, because he was in the American army during the war.’ As our credulity switched back to her she leaned forward with enthusiasm. ‘You look at him sometimes when he thinks nobody’s look-ing at him. I’ll bet he killed a man.’"

‘I don’t think it’s so much THAT,’ argued Lucille skepti-cally; ‘it’s more that he was a German spy during the war.’

One of the men nodded in confirmation.

‘I heard that from a man who knew all about him, grew up with him in Germany,’ he assured us positively.

‘Oh, no,’ said the first girl, ‘it couldn’t be that, because he was in the American army during the war.’ As our credulity switched back to her she leaned forward with enthusiasm. ‘You look at him sometimes when he thinks nobody’s look-ing at him. I’ll bet he killed a man.’"

(This gives us characterization about Gatsby. From this we can tell that not that many people know Gatsby on a personal level. And because of this there are a lot of rumors surrounding his name. It also shows that most of the people that come to Gatsby's parties are just there to have fun, not to see Gatsby.) 

 He smiled understandingly—much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced—or seemed to face—the whole external world for an instant, and then concentrated on YOU with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just so far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey.