[87431] in Discussion of MIT-community interests
Compare Single Senior Citizens
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (Senior Dating Options)
Thu Aug 25 09:33:51 2016
Date: Thu, 25 Aug 2016 09:33:55 -0400
To: mit-talk-mtg@charon.mit.edu
From: Senior Dating Options <seniordatingoptions@ioseniordate.top>
Reply-to: Senior Dating Options <seniordatingoptions@ioseniordate.top>
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His tone made me suspicious. “Of course you’ll be there yourself.” “Well, I’ll certainly try. What I called up about is ——” “Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “How about saying you’ll
come?” “Well, the fact is — the truthof the matter is that I’m staying with some people up here in Greenwich, and they rather expect me to be with
them to-morrow. In fact,there’s a sort of picnic or something. Of course I’ll do my very best to get away.” i hid an unrestrained “huh!” and he must have
heard me, for he went on nervously: “What I called up about was a pair of shoes I left there. I wonder if it’d be too much trouble to have the butler send them on. You see, they’re
tennis shoes, and I’m sort of helpless without them. My address is care of B. F. ——” I didn’t hear the rest of the name, because I hung up the
receiver. After that I felt a certain shame for Gatsby — one gentleman to whom I telephoned implied that he had got what he deserved. However, that
was my fault, for he was one of those who used to sneer most bitterly at Gatsby on the courage of Gatsby’s liquor, and I should have known better than to call him.
The morning of the funeral I went up to New York to see Meyer Wolfsheim; I couldn’t seem to reach him any other way. The door that I pushed open,
on the advice of an elevator boy, was marked “The Swastika Holding Company, ” and at first there didn’t seem to be any one inside. But when I’d shouted “hello” several times in
vain, an argument broke out behind a partition, and presently a lovely Jewess appeared at an interior door and scrutinized me with black hostile eyes.
“Nobody’s in, ” she said. “Mr. Wolfsheim’s gone to Chicago.” The first part of this was obviously untrue, for someone had begun to whistle “The
Rosary,” tunelessly, inside. “Please say that Mr. Carraway wants to see him. ” “I can’t get him back from Chicago, can I?”
At this moment a voice, unmistakably Wolfsheim’s, called “Stella!” from the other side of the door.“Leave your name on the desk, ” she said quickly. “I’ll
give it to him when he gets back.” “But I know he’s there.” She took a step toward me and began to slide her hands indignantly up and down her hips.
“You young men think you can force your way in here any time,” she scolded. “We’re getting sickantired of it. When I say he’s in Chicago,
he’s in Chicago.” I mentioned Gatsby. “Oh — h!” She looked at me over again. “Will you just — What was your name?” She vanished. In a moment Meyer Wolfsheim stood solemnly
in the doorway, holding out both hands. He drew me into his office, remarking in a reverent voice that it was a sad time for all of us, and offered me a cigar.
“My memory goes back to whenI first met him, ” he said. “A young major just out of the army and covered over with medals he got in the war. He
was so hard up he had to keep on wearing his uniform because he couldn’t buy some regular clothes. First time I saw him was when he come into Winebrenner’s poolroom at .
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<p align="right">His tone made me suspicious. “Of course you’ll be there yourself.” “Well, I’ll certainly try. What I called up about is ——” “Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “How about saying you’ll </p>
<BR />
<p align="left" style="font: 11px;">
come?” “Well, the fact is — the truth<I>of the matter is that I’m staying with some people up here in Greenwich, and they rather expect me to be with</I></p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: sans-serif, Helvetica, Arial; font-size: 7px; color: #ffffff;"></span>
<p align="center" style="font: 11px;">
them to-morrow. In fact,there’s a sort of picnic or something. Of course I’ll do my very best to get away.” i hid an unrestrained “huh!” and he must have </p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span>
<p align="center">
heard me, for he went on nervously: “What I called up about was a pair of shoes I left there. I wonder if it’d be too much trouble to have the butler send them on. You see, they’re </p>
<BR />
<p align="right" style="font: 15px;">
tennis shoes, and I’m sort of helpless without them. My address is care of B. F. ——” I didn’t hear the rest of the name, because I hung up the </p>
<BR />
<p>
receiver. After that I felt a certain shame for Gatsby — one gentleman to whom I telephoned implied that he had got what he deserved. However, that </p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif, Times New Roman, Arial; font-size: 8px; color: #ffffff;"></span>
<p align="center" style="font: 13px;">
was my fault, for he was one of those who used to sneer most bitterly at Gatsby on the courage of Gatsby’s liquor, and I should have known better than to call him. </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p>
The morning of the funeral I went up to New York to see Meyer Wolfsheim; I couldn’t seem to reach him any other way. The door that I pushed open,
<BR />
<p align="center">
on the advice of an elevator boy, was marked “The Swastika Holding Company, ” and at first there didn’t seem to be any one inside. But when I’d shouted “hello” several times in </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p>
vain, an argument broke out behind a partition, and presently a lovely Jewess appeared at an interior door and scrutinized me with black hostile eyes. </p>
<BR />
<p align="right">
“Nobody’s in, ” she said. “Mr. Wolfsheim’s gone to Chicago.” The first part of this was obviously untrue, for someone had begun to whistle “The </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="center" style="font: 12px;"></p>
<BR />
<p>Rosary,” tunelessly, inside. “Please say that Mr. Carraway wants to see him. ” “I can’t get him back from Chicago, can I?” </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="right"></p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="left" style="font: 15px;">At this moment a voice, unmistakably Wolfsheim’s, called “Stella!” from the other side of the door.“Leave your name on the desk, ” she said quickly. “I’ll </p>
<BR /><BR /><span style="font-family: sans-serif, Helvetica, Arial;"></span>
<p align="right"></p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif, Times New Roman, Arial;"></span>
<p align="left">give it to him when he gets back.” “But I know he’s there.” She took a step toward me and began to slide her hands indignantly up and down her hips.
</p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif, Times New Roman, Arial; font-size: 9px;"></span>
<p align="left" style="font: 15px;">“You young men think you can force your way in here any time,” she scolded. “We’re getting sickantired of it. When I say he’s in Chicago, </p>
<BR />
<p align="left" style="font: 11px;"></p>
<BR />
<p align="right">he’s in Chicago.” I mentioned Gatsby. “Oh — h!” She looked at me over again. “Will you just — What was your name?” She vanished. In a moment Meyer Wolfsheim stood solemnly </p>
<BR />
<p align="left" style="font: 9px;">
in the doorway, holding out both hands. He drew me into his office, remarking in a reverent voice that it was a sad time for all of us, and offered me a cigar. </p>
<BR /><BR />
<p align="center">
“My memory goes back to when<u>I first met him, ” he said. “A young major just out of the army and covered over with medals he got in the </u>war. He </p>
<BR /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; color: #ffffff;"></span>
<p align="left">
was so hard up he had to keep on wearing his uniform because he couldn’t buy some regular clothes. First time I saw him was when he come into Winebrenner’s poolroom at .</p>
<br>
<br>
<br>
<br>
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