but every one near by, including the woman, suspected me just the same.

“Hot!” said the conductor to familiar faces. “Some weather! Hot! Hot! Hot! Is it hot enough for you? Is it hot? Is it � ?”

My commutation ticket came back to me with a dark stain from his hand. That any one should care in this heat whose flushed lips he kissed, whose head made damp the pajama pocket over his heart!

� Through the hall of the Buchanans' house blew a faint wind, carrying the sound of the telephone bell out to Gatsby and me as we waited at the door.

“The master's body!” roared the butler into the mouthpiece. “I'm sorry, madame, but we can't furnish it — it's far too hot to touch this noon!”