“Looks very good,” he remarked vaguely. “One of the papers said they thought the rain would stop about four. I think it was 'The Journal.' Have you got everything you need in the shape of — of tea?”

I took him into the pantry where he looked a little reproachfully at the Finn. Together we scrutinized the twelve lemon cakes from the delicatessen shop.

“Will they do?” I asked.

“Of course, of course! They're fine!” and he added hollowly, “� old sport.”

The rain cooled about half-past three to a damp mist through which occasional thin drops swam like dew. Gatsby looked with vacant eyes through a copy of Clay's “Economics,” starting at the Finnish