The first night that I went to Gatsby's house I was one of the few guests who had actually been invited. A servant came to my house one day with an invitation from his Mr. Gatsby. However, most of the people at his parties were not invited—they just went there. Sometimes they came to the party and left without ever having met Gatsby.

I went over to Gatsby's house at about seven o'clock. I felt nervous among all these people I didn't know, so I walked around looking for Gatsby. I asked many guests where he was, but they all stared at me in such a surprised way that I decided to go and sit at the bar. I sat at a table where a man was sitting. The man at the table looked at me and smiled.

"I think I have seen you before," he said politely. "Were you in the army during the war? Were you in the First Division?"

"Why, yes I was." I was surprised.

The man and I talked for a while about some of the places we had been in the war. I learned that he lived in this neighborhood too, because he told me that he had just bought an airplane and planned to try it in the morning.

"Do you want to fly with me tomorrow, young fellow?" he asked.

I wanted to go and accepted. I was about to ask his name when he said to me, "Having you had a good time now?"

I smiled to my new friend, "This party is strange for me. I don't even know the host. I haven't met him yet. I live over there—I turned around and pointed my hand toward my house and this man, Gatsby, sent over his servant with an invitation."

For a moment, the man I was talking to looked at me as if he didn't understand. "I'm Gatsby," he said suddenly.

"What!" I cried. "Oh, I didn't—I'm so sorry."

"I thought you knew, young fellow. I'm sorry—I suppose I'm not a verygood host."

He smiled at me. His smiles had a quality of comfort in it. It was a smile that you may only see four or five times in life. His smile seemed to say that the whole world was good and that you were also good. His smile understood you and it believed you.

His smile disappeared, and I looked at Mr. Gatsby for the first time. He was a handsome young man, about thirty years old and dressed very well. He spoke very politely and it was a little funny to me; most men his age were not so polite. He spoke as if he was carefully choosing his words.