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Simplified version
There was music from my neighbour's house through the summer nights. In his blue gardens men and girls (1) came and went, (2) floating among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars. In the afternoon by the shore I watched his guests (3) swimming in theSound, or lying in the sun on the hot sand,or water-skiing from his two motorboats.
At weekends his big open car became a bus, carrying groups of people (4) to and from the city between nine in the morning and long pastmidnight, while his second car met all the trains at the station. And on Mondays eight servants, including an extra gardener, worked all day (5) to repair the damage from the night before.(6) Every Fridayfive boxes of oranges and lemons arrived from a fruit shop in New York - every Monday these sameoranges and lemons lefthis back door ina a pile of empty halves.
About once in two weeks there was a really big party. (7)The treeswere all covered in coloured lights and a dance floor was laid downon the lawn; a big group of musicians came down from New York to play music for dancing. Wonderful food arrived, with dozens of waiters to serve it,
and in the main hall a bar was set up, serving every possible kind of alcoholic drink. I remember the sense of excitement at the beginning of the party.
By seven o'clock the last swimmers have come in from the beach and (8) are dressing upstairs; cars from New York are drawing up every minute, and already the halls and sitting rooms are full of girls in bright dresses with the newest, strangest hairstyles. Trays of cocktails are floating through the garden outside, until the air is alive with talk and laughter.
(9)The lights grow brighter as darkness falls, and now the musicians are playing cocktail music and the voices are higher and louder.Laughter is easier, minute by minute. The party has begun.
