She looked at me and laughed pointlessly. Then she flounced over to the dog, kissed it with ecstasy, and swept into the kitchen, implying that a dozen chefs awaited her orders there.
"I've done some nice things out on Long Island," asserted Mr. McKee.
Tom looked at him blankly.
"Two of them we have framed down-stairs."
"Two what?" demanded Tom.
"Two studies. One of them I call Montauk Point—The Gulls, and the other I call Montauk Point—The Sea."
The sister Catherine sat down beside me on the couch.
"Do you live on Long Island, too?" she inquired.
"I live at West Egg."
"Really? I was down there at a party about a month ago. At a man named Gatsby's. Do you know him?"
"I live next door to him."
"Well, they say he's a nephew or a cousin of Kaiser Wilhelm's. That's where all his money comes from."
"Really?"
She nodded.
"I'm scared of him. I'd hate to have him get anything on me."
This absorbing information about my neighbor was interrupted by Mrs. McKee's pointing suddenly at Catherine:
"Chester, I think you could do something with her," she broke out, but Mr. McKee only nodded in a bored way, and turned his attention to Tom.
"I'd like to do more work on Long Island, if I could get the entry. All I ask is that they should give me a start."
"Ask Myrtle," said Tom, breaking into a short shout of laughter as Mrs. Wilson entered with a tray. "She'll give you a letter of introduction, won't you, Myrtle?"
"Do what?" she asked, startled.
"You'll give McKee a letter of introduction to your husband, so he can do some studies of him." His lips moved silently for
