It was Gatsby's father, a solemn old man, very helpless and dismayed,
bundled up in a long cheap ulster against the warm September day. His
eyes leaked continuously with excitement, and when I took the bag and
umbrella from his hands he began to pull so incessantly at his sparse
gray beard that I had difficulty in getting off his coat. He was on the
point of collapse, so I took him into the music-room and made
去书内
-
秋水揽星河