and stood with her back to us, fixing her hair.  “It’s a swell suite,” whispered Jordan respectfully, and everyone laughed.  “Open another window,” commanded Daisy, without turning around.  “There aren’t any more.”  “Well, we’d better telephone for an axe—”  “The thing to do is to forget about the heat,” said Tom impatiently. “You make it ten times worse by crabbing about it.”  He unrolled the bottle of whisky from the towel and put it on the table.  “Why not let her alone, old sport?” remarked Gatsby. “You’re the one that wanted to come to town.”  There was a moment of silence. The telephone book slipped from its nail and splashed to the floor, whereupon Jordan whispered, “Excuse me”—but this time no one laughed.  “I’ll pick it up,” I offered.  “I’ve got it.” Gatsby examined the parted string, muttered “Hum!” in an interested way, and tossed the book on a chair.  “That’s a great expression of yours, isn’t it?” said Tom sharply.  “What is?”  “All this ‘old sport’ business. Where’d you pick that up?”  “Now see here, Tom,” said Daisy, turning around from the mirror, “if you’re going to make personal remarks I won’t stay here a minute. Call up and order some ice for the mint julep.”  As Tom took up the receiver the compressed heat exploded into sound and we were listening to the portentous chords of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March from the ballroom below.  “Imagine marrying anybody in this heat!” cried Jordan dismally.  “Still—I was married in the middle of June,” Daisy remembered. “Louisville in June! Somebody fainted. Who was it fainted, Tom?”  “Biloxi,” he answered shortly.  “A man named Biloxi. ‘Blocks’ Biloxi, and he made boxes—that’s a fact—and he was from Biloxi, Tennessee.”  “They carried him into my house,” appended Jordan, “because we lived just two doors from the church. And he stayed three weeks, until Daddy told him he had to get out. The day after he left Daddy died.”  After a moment she added. “There wasn’t any connection.”  “I used to know a Bill Biloxi from Memphis,” I remarked.  “That was his cousin. I knew his whole family history before he left. He gave me an aluminium putter that I use today.”  The music had died down as the ceremony began and now a long cheer floated in at the window, followed by intermittent cries of “Yea—ea—ea!” and finally by a burst of jazz as the dancing began.  “We’re getting old,” said Daisy. “If we were young we’d rise and dance.”  “Remember Biloxi,” Jordan warned her. “Where’d you know him, Tom?”  “Biloxi?” He conce