It was when curiosity about Gatsby was at its highest that the lights in his house failed to go on one Saturday night\u2014and, as obscurely as it had begun, his career as Trimalchio was over. Only gradually did I become aware that the automobiles which turned expectantly into his drive stayed for just a minute and then drove sulkily away. Wondering if he were sick I went over to find out\u2014an unfamiliar butler with a villainous face squinted at me suspiciously from the door.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs Mr. Gatsby sick?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNope.\u201d After a pause he added \u201csir\u201d in a dilatory, grudging way.<\/p>\n
\u201cI hadn\u2019t seen him around, and I was rather worried. Tell him Mr. Carraway came over.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho?\u201d he demanded rudely.<\/p>\n
\u201cCarraway.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCarraway. All right, I\u2019ll tell him.\u201d<\/p>\n
Abruptly he slammed the door.<\/p>\n
My Finn informed me that Gatsby had dismissed every servant in his house a week ago and replaced them with half a dozen others, who never went into West Egg village to be bribed by the tradesmen, but ordered moderate supplies over the telephone. The grocery boy reported that the kitchen looked like a pigsty, and the general opinion in the village was that the new people weren\u2019t servants at all.<\/p>\n
Next day Gatsby called me on the phone.<\/p>\n
\u201cGoing away?\u201d I inquired.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, old sport.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI hear you fired all your servants.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI wanted somebody who wouldn\u2019t gossip. Daisy comes over quite often\u2014in the afternoons.\u201d<\/p>\n
So the whole caravansary had fallen in like a card house at the disapproval in her eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019re some people Wolfshiem wanted to do something for. They\u2019re all brothers and sisters. They used to run a small hotel.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI see.\u201d<\/p>\n
He was calling up at Daisy\u2019s request\u2014would I come to lunch at her house tomorrow? Miss Baker would be there. Half an hour later Daisy herself telephoned and seemed relieved to find that I was coming. Something was up. And yet I couldn\u2019t believe that they would choose this occasion for a scene\u2014especially for the rather harrowing scene that Gatsby had outlined in the garden.<\/p>\n
The next day was broiling, almost the last, certainly the warmest, of the summer. As my train emerged from the tunnel into sunlight, only the hot whistles of the National Biscuit Company broke the simmering hush at noon. The straw seats of the car hovered on the edge of combustion; the woman next to me perspired delicately for a while into her white shirtwaist, and then, as her newspaper dampened under her fingers, lapsed despairingly into deep heat with a desolate cry. Her pocketbook slapped to the floor.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, my!\u201d she gasped.<\/p>\n
I picked it up with a weary bend and handed it back to her, holding it at arm\u2019s length and by the extreme tip of the corners to indicate that I had no designs upon it\u2014but everyone near by, including the woman, suspected me just the same.<\/p>\n
\u201cHot!\u201d said the conductor to familiar faces. \u201cSome weather!\u2026 Hot!\u2026 Hot!\u2026 Hot!\u2026 Is it hot enough for you? Is it hot? Is it\u2026\u200a?\u201d<\/p>\n
My commutation ticket came back to me with a dark stain from his hand. That anyone should care in this heat whose flushed lips he kissed, whose head made damp the pyjama pocket over his heart!<\/p>\n
\u2026 Through the hall of the Buchanans\u2019 house blew a faint wind, carrying the sound of the telephone bell out to Gatsby and me as we waited at the door.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe master\u2019s body?\u201d roared the butler into the mouthpiece. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, madame, but we can\u2019t furnish it\u2014it\u2019s far too hot to touch this noon!\u201d<\/p>\n
What he really said was: \u201cYes\u2026 Yes\u2026 I\u2019ll see.\u201d<\/p>\n
He set down the receiver and came toward us, glistening slightly, to take our stiff straw hats.<\/p>\n
\u201cMadame expects you in the salon!\u201d he cried, needlessly indicating the direction. In this heat every extra gesture was an affront to the common store of life.<\/p>\n
The room, shadowed well with awnings, was dark and cool. Daisy and Jordan lay upon an enormous couch, like silver idols weighing down their own white dresses against the singing breeze of the fans.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe can\u2019t move,\u201d they said together.<\/p>\n
Jordan\u2019s fingers, powdered white over their tan, rested for a moment in mine.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd Mr. Thomas Buchanan, the athlete?\u201d I inquired.<\/p>\n
Simultaneously I heard his voice, gruff, muffled, husky, at the hall telephone.<\/p>\n
Gatsby stood in the centre of the crimson carpet and gazed around with fascinated eyes. Daisy watched him and laughed, her sweet, exciting laugh; a tiny gust of powder rose from her bosom into the air.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe rumour is,\u201d whispered Jordan, \u201cthat that\u2019s Tom\u2019s girl on the telephone.\u201d<\/p>\n
We were silent. The voice in the hall rose high with annoyance: \u201cVery well, then, I won\u2019t sell you the car at all\u2026 I\u2019m under no obligations to you at all\u2026 and as for your bothering me about it at lunch time, I won\u2019t stand that at all!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHolding down the receiver,\u201d said Daisy cynically.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, he\u2019s not,\u201d I assured her. \u201cIt\u2019s a bona-fide deal. I happen to know about it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Tom flung open the door, blocked out its space for a moment with his thick body, and hurried into the room.<\/p>\n
\u201cMr. Gatsby!\u201d He put out his broad, flat hand with well-concealed dislike. \u201cI\u2019m glad to see you, sir\u2026 Nick\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMake us a cold drink,\u201d cried Daisy.<\/p>\n
As he left the room again she got up and went over to Gatsby and pulled his face down, kissing him on the mouth.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know I love you,\u201d she murmured.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou forget there\u2019s a lady present,\u201d said Jordan.<\/p>\n
Daisy looked around doubtfully.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou kiss Nick too.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat a low, vulgar girl!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t care!\u201d cried Daisy, and began to clog on the brick fireplace. Then she remembered the heat and sat down guiltily on the couch just as a freshly laundered nurse leading a little girl came into the room.<\/p>\n
\u201cBles-sed pre-cious,\u201d she crooned, holding out her arms. \u201cCome to your own mother that loves you.\u201d<\/p>\n
The child, relinquished by the nurse, rushed across the room and rooted shyly into her mother\u2019s dress.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe bles-sed pre-cious! Did mother get powder on your old yellowy hair? Stand up now, and say\u2014How-de-do.\u201d<\/p>\n
Gatsby and I in turn leaned down and took the small reluctant hand. Afterward he kept looking at the child with surprise. I don\u2019t think he had ever really believed in its existence before.<\/p>\n
\u201cI got dressed before luncheon,\u201d said the child, turning eagerly to Daisy.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s because your mother wanted to show you off.\u201d Her face bent into the single wrinkle of the small white neck. \u201cYou dream, you. You absolute little dream.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d admitted the child calmly. \u201cAunt Jordan\u2019s got on a white dress too.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow do you like mother\u2019s friends?\u201d Daisy turned her around so that she faced Gatsby. \u201cDo you think they\u2019re pretty?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere\u2019s Daddy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe doesn\u2019t look like her father,\u201d explained Daisy. \u201cShe looks like me. She\u2019s got my hair and shape of the face.\u201d<\/p>\n
Daisy sat back upon the couch. The nurse took a step forward and held out her hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cCome, Pammy.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGoodbye, sweetheart!\u201d<\/p>\n
With a reluctant backward glance the well-disciplined child held to her nurse\u2019s hand and was pulled out the door, just as Tom came back, preceding four gin rickeys that clicked full of ice.<\/p>\n
Gatsby took up his drink.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey certainly look cool,\u201d he said, with visible tension.<\/p>\n
We drank in long, greedy swallows.<\/p>\n
\u201cI read somewhere that the sun\u2019s getting hotter every year,\u201d said Tom genially. \u201cIt seems that pretty soon the earth\u2019s going to fall into the sun\u2014or wait a minute\u2014it\u2019s just the opposite\u2014the sun\u2019s getting colder every year.<\/p>\n
\u201cCome outside,\u201d he suggested to Gatsby, \u201cI\u2019d like you to have a look at the place.\u201d<\/p>\n
I went with them out to the veranda. On the green Sound, stagnant in the heat, one small sail crawled slowly toward the fresher sea. Gatsby\u2019s eyes followed it momentarily; he raised his hand and pointed across the bay.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m right across from you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo you are.\u201d<\/p>\n
Our eyes lifted over the rose-beds and the hot lawn and the weedy refuse of the dog-days alongshore. Slowly the white wings of the boat moved against the blue cool limit of the sky. Ahead lay the scalloped ocean and the abounding blessed isles.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s sport for you,\u201d said Tom, nodding. \u201cI\u2019d like to be out there with him for about an hour.\u201d<\/p>\n
We had luncheon in the dining-room, darkened too against the heat, and drank down nervous gaiety with the cold ale.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019ll we do with ourselves this afternoon?\u201d cried Daisy, \u201cand the day after that, and the next thirty years?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t be morbid,\u201d Jordan said. \u201cLife starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut it\u2019s so hot,\u201d insisted Daisy, on the verge of tears, \u201cand everything\u2019s so confused. Let\u2019s all go to town!\u201d<\/p>\n
Her voice struggled on through the heat, beating against it, moulding its senselessness into forms.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve heard of making a garage out of a stable,\u201d Tom was saying to Gatsby, \u201cbut I\u2019m the first man who ever made a stable out of a garage.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho wants to go to town?\u201d demanded Daisy insistently. Gatsby\u2019s eyes floated toward her. \u201cAh,\u201d she cried, \u201cyou look so cool.\u201d<\/p>\n
Their eyes met, and they stared together at each other, alone in space. With an effort she glanced down at the table.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou always look so cool,\u201d she repeated.<\/p>\n
She had told him that she loved him, and Tom Buchanan saw. He was astounded. His mouth opened a little, and he looked at Gatsby, and then back at Daisy as if he had just recognized her as someone he knew a long time ago.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou resemble the advertisement of the man,\u201d she went on innocently. \u201cYou know the advertisement of the man\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAll right,\u201d broke in Tom quickly, \u201cI\u2019m perfectly willing to go to town. Come on\u2014we\u2019re all going to town.\u201d<\/p>\n
He got up, his eyes still flashing between Gatsby and his wife. No one moved.<\/p>\n
\u201cCome on!\u201d His temper cracked a little. \u201cWhat\u2019s the matter, anyhow? If we\u2019re going to town, let\u2019s start.\u201d<\/p>\n
His hand, trembling with his effort at self-control, bore to his lips the last of his glass of ale. Daisy\u2019s voice got us to our feet and out on to the blazing gravel drive.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre we just going to go?\u201d she objected. \u201cLike this? Aren\u2019t we going to let anyone smoke a cigarette first?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEverybody smoked all through lunch.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, let\u2019s have fun,\u201d she begged him. \u201cIt\u2019s too hot to fuss.\u201d<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n
\u201cHave it your own way,\u201d she said. \u201cCome on, Jordan.\u201d<\/p>\n
They went upstairs to get ready while we three men stood there shuffling the hot pebbles with our feet. A silver curve of the moon hovered already in the western sky. Gatsby started to speak, changed his mind, but not before Tom wheeled and faced him expectantly.<\/p>\n
\u201cHave you got your stables here?\u201d asked Gatsby with an effort.<\/p>\n
\u201cAbout a quarter of a mile down the road.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh.\u201d<\/p>\n
A pause.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t see the idea of going to town,\u201d broke out Tom savagely. \u201cWomen get these notions in their heads\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShall we take anything to drink?\u201d called Daisy from an upper window.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll get some whisky,\u201d answered Tom. He went inside.<\/p>\n
Gatsby turned to me rigidly:<\/p>\n
\u201cI can\u2019t say anything in his house, old sport.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s got an indiscreet voice,\u201d I remarked. \u201cIt\u2019s full of\u2014\u201d I hesitated.<\/p>\n
\u201cHer voice is full of money,\u201d he said suddenly.<\/p>\n
That was it. I\u2019d never understood before. It was full of money\u2014that was the inexhaustible charm that rose and fell in it, the jingle of it, the cymbals\u2019 song of it\u2026 High in a white palace the king\u2019s daughter, the golden girl\u2026<\/p>\n
Tom came out of the house wrapping a quart bottle in a towel, followed by Daisy and Jordan wearing small tight hats of metallic cloth and carrying light capes over their arms.<\/p>\n
\u201cShall we all go in my car?\u201d suggested Gatsby. He felt the hot, green leather of the seat. \u201cI ought to have left it in the shade.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs it standard shift?\u201d demanded Tom.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, you take my coup\u00e9 and let me drive your car to town.\u201d<\/p>\n
The suggestion was distasteful to Gatsby.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t think there\u2019s much gas,\u201d he objected.<\/p>\n
\u201cPlenty of gas,\u201d said Tom boisterously. He looked at the gauge. \u201cAnd if it runs out I can stop at a drugstore. You can buy anything at a drugstore nowadays.\u201d<\/p>\n
A pause followed this apparently pointless remark. Daisy looked at Tom frowning, and an indefinable expression, at once definitely unfamiliar and vaguely recognizable, as if I had only heard it described in words, passed over Gatsby\u2019s face.<\/p>\n
\u201cCome on, Daisy\u201d said Tom, pressing her with his hand toward Gatsby\u2019s car. \u201cI\u2019ll take you in this circus wagon.\u201d<\/p>\n
He opened the door, but she moved out from the circle of his arm.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou take Nick and Jordan. We\u2019ll follow you in the coup\u00e9.\u201d<\/p>\n
She walked close to Gatsby, touching his coat with her hand. Jordan and Tom and I got into the front seat of Gatsby\u2019s car, Tom pushed the unfamiliar gears tentatively, and we shot off into the oppressive heat, leaving them out of sight behind.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you see that?\u201d demanded Tom.<\/p>\n
\u201cSee what?\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked at me keenly, realizing that Jordan and I must have known all along.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou think I\u2019m pretty dumb, don\u2019t you?\u201d he suggested. \u201cPerhaps I am, but I have a\u2014almost a second sight, sometimes, that tells me what to do. Maybe you don\u2019t believe that, but science\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
He paused. The immediate contingency overtook him, pulled him back from the edge of theoretical abyss.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve made a small investigation of this fellow,\u201d he continued. \u201cI could have gone deeper if I\u2019d known\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you mean you\u2019ve been to a medium?\u201d inquired Jordan humorously.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d Confused, he stared at us as we laughed. \u201cA medium?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAbout Gatsby.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAbout Gatsby! No, I haven\u2019t. I said I\u2019d been making a small investigation of his past.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you found he was an Oxford man,\u201d said Jordan helpfully.<\/p>\n
\u201cAn Oxford man!\u201d He was incredulous. \u201cLike hell he is! He wears a pink suit.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNevertheless he\u2019s an Oxford man.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOxford, New Mexico,\u201d snorted Tom contemptuously, \u201cor something like that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cListen, Tom. If you\u2019re such a snob, why did you invite him to lunch?\u201d demanded Jordan crossly.<\/p>\n
\u201cDaisy invited him; she knew him before we were married\u2014God knows where!\u201d<\/p>\n
We were all irritable now with the fading ale, and aware of it we drove for a while in silence. Then as Doctor T. J. Eckleburg\u2019s faded eyes came into sight down the road, I remembered Gatsby\u2019s caution about gasoline.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019ve got enough to get us to town,\u201d said Tom.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut there\u2019s a garage right here,\u201d objected Jordan. \u201cI don\u2019t want to get stalled in this baking heat.\u201d<\/p>\n
Tom threw on both brakes impatiently, and we slid to an abrupt dusty stop under Wilson\u2019s sign. After a moment the proprietor emerged from the interior of his establishment and gazed hollow-eyed at the car.<\/p>\n
\u201cLet\u2019s have some gas!\u201d cried Tom roughly. \u201cWhat do you think we stopped for\u2014to admire the view?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sick,\u201d said Wilson without moving. \u201cBeen sick all day.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s the matter?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m all run down.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, shall I help myself?\u201d Tom demanded. \u201cYou sounded well enough on the phone.\u201d<\/p>\n
With an effort Wilson left the shade and support of the doorway and, breathing hard, unscrewed the cap of the tank. In the sunlight his face was green.<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t mean to interrupt your lunch,\u201d he said. \u201cBut I need money pretty bad, and I was wondering what you were going to do with your old car.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow do you like this one?\u201d inquired Tom. \u201cI bought it last week.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s a nice yellow one,\u201d said Wilson, as he strained at the handle.<\/p>\n
\u201cLike to buy it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBig chance,\u201d Wilson smiled faintly. \u201cNo, but I could make some money on the other.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you want money for, all of a sudden?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve been here too long. I want to get away. My wife and I want to go West.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYour wife does,\u201d exclaimed Tom, startled.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s been talking about it for ten years.\u201d He rested for a moment against the pump, shading his eyes. \u201cAnd now she\u2019s going whether she wants to or not. I\u2019m going to get her away.\u201d<\/p>\n
The coup\u00e9 flashed by us with a flurry of dust and the flash of a waving hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do I owe you?\u201d demanded Tom harshly.<\/p>\n
\u201cI just got wised up to something funny the last two days,\u201d remarked Wilson. \u201cThat\u2019s why I want to get away. That\u2019s why I been bothering you about the car.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do I owe you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDollar twenty.\u201d<\/p>\n
The relentless beating heat was beginning to confuse me and I had a bad moment there before I realized that so far his suspicions hadn\u2019t alighted on Tom. He had discovered that Myrtle had some sort of life apart from him in another world, and the shock had made him physically sick. I stared at him and then at Tom, who had made a parallel discovery less than an hour before\u2014and it occurred to me that there was no difference between men, in intelligence or race, so profound as the difference between the sick and the well. Wilson was so sick that he looked guilty, unforgivably guilty\u2014as if he had just got some poor girl with child.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll let you have that car,\u201d said Tom. \u201cI\u2019ll send it over tomorrow afternoon.\u201d<\/p>\n
That locality was always vaguely disquieting, even in the broad glare of afternoon, and now I turned my head as though I had been warned of something behind. Over the ash-heaps the giant eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg kept their vigil, but I perceived, after a moment, that other eyes were regarding us with peculiar intensity from less than twenty feet away.<\/p>\n
In one of the windows over the garage the curtains had been moved aside a little, and Myrtle Wilson was peering down at the car. So engrossed was she that she had no consciousness of being observed, and one emotion after another crept into her face like objects into a slowly developing picture. Her expression was curiously familiar\u2014it was an expression I had often seen on women\u2019s faces, but on Myrtle Wilson\u2019s face it seemed purposeless and inexplicable until I realized that her eyes, wide with jealous terror, were fixed not on Tom, but on Jordan Baker, whom she took to be his wife.<\/p>\n
There is no confusion like the confusion of a simple mind, and as we drove away Tom was feeling the hot whips of panic. His wife and his mistress, until an hour ago secure and inviolate, were slipping precipitately from his control. Instinct made him step on the accelerator with the double purpose of overtaking Daisy and leaving Wilson behind, and we sped along toward Astoria at fifty miles an hour, until, among the spidery girders of the elevated, we came in sight of the easygoing blue coup\u00e9.<\/p>\n
\u201cThose big movies around Fiftieth Street are cool,\u201d suggested Jordan. \u201cI love New York on summer afternoons when everyone\u2019s away. There\u2019s something very sensuous about it\u2014overripe, as if all sorts of funny fruits were going to fall into your hands.\u201d<\/p>\n
The word \u201csensuous\u201d had the effect of further disquieting Tom, but before he could invent a protest the coup\u00e9 came to a stop, and Daisy signalled us to draw up alongside.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere are we going?\u201d she cried.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow about the movies?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s so hot,\u201d she complained. \u201cYou go. We\u2019ll ride around and meet you after.\u201d With an effort her wit rose faintly. \u201cWe\u2019ll meet you on some corner. I\u2019ll be the man smoking two cigarettes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe can\u2019t argue about it here,\u201d Tom said impatiently, as a truck gave out a cursing whistle behind us. \u201cYou follow me to the south side of Central Park, in front of the Plaza.\u201d<\/p>\n
Several times he turned his head and looked back for their car, and if the traffic delayed them he slowed up until they came into sight. I think he was afraid they would dart down a side-street and out of his life forever.<\/p>\n
But they didn\u2019t. And we all took the less explicable step of engaging the parlour of a suite in the Plaza Hotel.<\/p>\n
The prolonged and tumultuous argument that ended by herding us into that room eludes me, though I have a sharp physical memory that, in the course of it, my underwear kept climbing like a damp snake around my legs and intermittent beads of sweat raced cool across my back. The notion originated with Daisy\u2019s suggestion that we hire five bathrooms and take cold baths, and then assumed more tangible form as \u201ca place to have a mint julep.\u201d Each of us said over and over that it was a \u201ccrazy idea\u201d\u2014we all talked at once to a baffled clerk and thought, or pretended to think, that we were being very funny\u2026<\/p>\n
The room was large and stifling, and, though it was already four o\u2019clock, opening the windows admitted only a gust of hot shrubbery from the Park. Daisy went to the mirror and stood with her back to us, fixing her hair.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s a swell suite,\u201d whispered Jordan respectfully, and everyone laughed.<\/p>\n
\u201cOpen another window,\u201d commanded Daisy, without turning around.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere aren\u2019t any more.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, we\u2019d better telephone for an axe\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe thing to do is to forget about the heat,\u201d said Tom impatiently. \u201cYou make it ten times worse by crabbing about it.\u201d<\/p>\n
He unrolled the bottle of whisky from the towel and put it on the table.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy not let her alone, old sport?\u201d remarked Gatsby. \u201cYou\u2019re the one that wanted to come to town.\u201d<\/p>\n
There was a moment of silence. The telephone book slipped from its nail and splashed to the floor, whereupon Jordan whispered, \u201cExcuse me\u201d\u2014but this time no one laughed.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll pick it up,\u201d I offered.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve got it.\u201d Gatsby examined the parted string, muttered \u201cHum!\u201d in an interested way, and tossed the book on a chair.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s a great expression of yours, isn\u2019t it?\u201d said Tom sharply.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat is?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAll this \u2018old sport\u2019 business. Where\u2019d you pick that up?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNow see here, Tom,\u201d said Daisy, turning around from the mirror, \u201cif you\u2019re going to make personal remarks I won\u2019t stay here a minute. Call up and order some ice for the mint julep.\u201d<\/p>\n
As Tom took up the receiver the compressed heat exploded into sound and we were listening to the portentous chords of Mendelssohn\u2019s Wedding March from the ballroom below.<\/p>\n
\u201cImagine marrying anybody in this heat!\u201d cried Jordan dismally.<\/p>\n
\u201cStill\u2014I was married in the middle of June,\u201d Daisy remembered. \u201cLouisville in June! Somebody fainted. Who was it fainted, Tom?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBiloxi,\u201d he answered shortly.<\/p>\n
\u201cA man named Biloxi. \u2018Blocks\u2019 Biloxi, and he made boxes\u2014that\u2019s a fact\u2014and he was from Biloxi, Tennessee.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey carried him into my house,\u201d appended Jordan, \u201cbecause 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.\u201d After a moment she added. \u201cThere wasn\u2019t any connection.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI used to know a Bill Biloxi from Memphis,\u201d I remarked.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat was his cousin. I knew his whole family history before he left. He gave me an aluminium putter that I use today.\u201d<\/p>\n
The music had died down as the ceremony began and now a long cheer floated in at the window, followed by intermittent cries of \u201cYea\u2014ea\u2014ea!\u201d and finally by a burst of jazz as the dancing began.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019re getting old,\u201d said Daisy. \u201cIf we were young we\u2019d rise and dance.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRemember Biloxi,\u201d Jordan warned her. \u201cWhere\u2019d you know him, Tom?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBiloxi?\u201d He concentrated with an effort. \u201cI didn\u2019t know him. He was a friend of Daisy\u2019s.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe was not,\u201d she denied. \u201cI\u2019d never seen him before. He came down in the private car.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, he said he knew you. He said he was raised in Louisville. Asa Bird brought him around at the last minute and asked if we had room for him.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jordan smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe was probably bumming his way home. He told me he was president of your class at Yale.\u201d<\/p>\n
Tom and I looked at each other blankly.<\/p>\n
\u201cBiloxi<\/i>?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFirst place, we didn\u2019t have any president\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
Gatsby\u2019s foot beat a short, restless tattoo and Tom eyed him suddenly.<\/p>\n
\u201cBy the way, Mr. Gatsby, I understand you\u2019re an Oxford man.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot exactly.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, yes, I understand you went to Oxford.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes\u2014I went there.\u201d<\/p>\n
A pause. Then Tom\u2019s voice, incredulous and insulting:<\/p>\n
\u201cYou must have gone there about the time Biloxi went to New Haven.\u201d<\/p>\n
Another pause. A waiter knocked and came in with crushed mint and ice but the silence was unbroken by his \u201cthank you\u201d and the soft closing of the door. This tremendous detail was to be cleared up at last.<\/p>\n
\u201cI told you I went there,\u201d said Gatsby.<\/p>\n
\u201cI heard you, but I\u2019d like to know when.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt was in nineteen-nineteen, I only stayed five months. That\u2019s why I can\u2019t really call myself an Oxford man.\u201d<\/p>\n
Tom glanced around to see if we mirrored his unbelief. But we were all looking at Gatsby.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt was an opportunity they gave to some of the officers after the armistice,\u201d he continued. \u201cWe could go to any of the universities in England or France.\u201d<\/p>\n
I wanted to get up and slap him on the back. I had one of those renewals of complete faith in him that I\u2019d experienced before.<\/p>\n
Daisy rose, smiling faintly, and went to the table.<\/p>\n
\u201cOpen the whisky, Tom,\u201d she ordered, \u201cand I\u2019ll make you a mint julep. Then you won\u2019t seem so stupid to yourself\u2026 Look at the mint!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWait a minute,\u201d snapped Tom, \u201cI want to ask Mr. Gatsby one more question.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGo on,\u201d Gatsby said politely.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat kind of a row are you trying to cause in my house anyhow?\u201d<\/p>\n
They were out in the open at last and Gatsby was content.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe isn\u2019t causing a row,\u201d Daisy looked desperately from one to the other. \u201cYou\u2019re causing a row. Please have a little self-control.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSelf-control!\u201d repeated Tom incredulously. \u201cI suppose the latest thing is to sit back and let Mr. Nobody from Nowhere make love to your wife. Well, if that\u2019s the idea you can count me out\u2026 Nowadays people begin by sneering at family life and family institutions, and next they\u2019ll throw everything overboard and have intermarriage between black and white.\u201d<\/p>\n
Flushed with his impassioned gibberish, he saw himself standing alone on the last barrier of civilization.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019re all white here,\u201d murmured Jordan.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know I\u2019m not very popular. I don\u2019t give big parties. I suppose you\u2019ve got to make your house into a pigsty in order to have any friends\u2014in the modern world.\u201d<\/p>\n
Angry as I was, as we all were, I was tempted to laugh whenever he opened his mouth. The transition from libertine to prig was so complete.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve got something to tell you<\/i>, old sport\u2014\u201d began Gatsby. But Daisy guessed at his intention.<\/p>\n
\u201cPlease don\u2019t!\u201d she interrupted helplessly. \u201cPlease let\u2019s all go home. Why don\u2019t we all go home?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s a good idea,\u201d I got up. \u201cCome on, Tom. Nobody wants a drink.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI want to know what Mr. Gatsby has to tell me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYour wife doesn\u2019t love you,\u201d said Gatsby. \u201cShe\u2019s never loved you. She loves me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou must be crazy!\u201d exclaimed Tom automatically.<\/p>\n
Gatsby sprang to his feet, vivid with excitement.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe never loved you, do you hear?\u201d he cried. \u201cShe only married you because I was poor and she was tired of waiting for me. It was a terrible mistake, but in her heart she never loved anyone except me!\u201d<\/p>\n
At this point Jordan and I tried to go, but Tom and Gatsby insisted with competitive firmness that we remain\u2014as though neither of them had anything to conceal and it would be a privilege to partake vicariously of their emotions.<\/p>\n
\u201cSit down, Daisy,\u201d Tom\u2019s voice groped unsuccessfully for the paternal note. \u201cWhat\u2019s been going on? I want to hear all about it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI told you what\u2019s been going on,\u201d said Gatsby. \u201cGoing on for five years\u2014and you didn\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
Tom turned to Daisy sharply.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ve been seeing this fellow for five years?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot seeing,\u201d said Gatsby. \u201cNo, we couldn\u2019t meet. But both of us loved each other all that time, old sport, and you didn\u2019t know. I used to laugh sometimes\u201d\u2014but there was no laughter in his eyes\u2014\u201cto think that you didn\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh\u2014that\u2019s all.\u201d Tom tapped his thick fingers together like a clergyman and leaned back in his chair.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re crazy!\u201d he exploded. \u201cI can\u2019t speak about what happened five years ago, because I didn\u2019t know Daisy then\u2014and I\u2019ll be damned if I see how you got within a mile of her unless you brought the groceries to the back door. But all the rest of that\u2019s a God damned lie. Daisy loved me when she married me and she loves me now.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d said Gatsby, shaking his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe does, though. The trouble is that sometimes she gets foolish ideas in her head and doesn\u2019t know what she\u2019s doing.\u201d He nodded sagely. \u201cAnd what\u2019s more, I love Daisy too. Once in a while I go off on a spree and make a fool of myself, but I always come back, and in my heart I love her all the time.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re revolting,\u201d said Daisy. She turned to me, and her voice, dropping an octave lower, filled the room with thrilling scorn: \u201cDo you know why we left Chicago? I\u2019m surprised that they didn\u2019t treat you to the story of that little spree.\u201d<\/p>\n
Gatsby walked over and stood beside her.<\/p>\n
\u201cDaisy, that\u2019s all over now,\u201d he said earnestly. \u201cIt doesn\u2019t matter any more. Just tell him the truth\u2014that you never loved him\u2014and it\u2019s all wiped out forever.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked at him blindly. \u201cWhy\u2014how could I love him\u2014possibly?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou never loved him.\u201d<\/p>\n
She hesitated. Her eyes fell on Jordan and me with a sort of appeal, as though she realized at last what she was doing\u2014and as though she had never, all along, intended doing anything at all. But it was done now. It was too late.<\/p>\n
\u201cI never loved him,\u201d she said, with perceptible reluctance.<\/p>\n
\u201cNot at Kapiolani?\u201d demanded Tom suddenly.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
From the ballroom beneath, muffled and suffocating chords were drifting up on hot waves of air.<\/p>\n
\u201cNot that day I carried you down from the Punch Bowl to keep your shoes dry?\u201d There was a husky tenderness in his tone\u2026 \u201cDaisy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPlease don\u2019t.\u201d Her voice was cold, but the rancour was gone from it. She looked at Gatsby. \u201cThere, Jay,\u201d she said\u2014but her hand as she tried to light a cigarette was trembling. Suddenly she threw the cigarette and the burning match on the carpet.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, you want too much!\u201d she cried to Gatsby. \u201cI love you now\u2014isn\u2019t that enough? I can\u2019t help what\u2019s past.\u201d She began to sob helplessly. \u201cI did love him once\u2014but I loved you too.\u201d<\/p>\n
Gatsby\u2019s eyes opened and closed.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou loved me too<\/i>?\u201d he repeated.<\/p>\n
\u201cEven that\u2019s a lie,\u201d said Tom savagely. \u201cShe didn\u2019t know you were alive. Why\u2014there\u2019s things between Daisy and me that you\u2019ll never know, things that neither of us can ever forget.\u201d<\/p>\n
The words seemed to bite physically into Gatsby.<\/p>\n
\u201cI want to speak to Daisy alone,\u201d he insisted. \u201cShe\u2019s all excited now\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEven alone I can\u2019t say I never loved Tom,\u201d she admitted in a pitiful voice. \u201cIt wouldn\u2019t be true.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course it wouldn\u2019t,\u201d agreed Tom.<\/p>\n
She turned to her husband.<\/p>\n
\u201cAs if it mattered to you,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course it matters. I\u2019m going to take better care of you from now on.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t understand,\u201d said Gatsby, with a touch of panic. \u201cYou\u2019re not going to take care of her any more.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not?\u201d Tom opened his eyes wide and laughed. He could afford to control himself now. \u201cWhy\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDaisy\u2019s leaving you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNonsense.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI am, though,\u201d she said with a visible effort.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s not leaving me!\u201d Tom\u2019s words suddenly leaned down over Gatsby. \u201cCertainly not for a common swindler who\u2019d have to steal the ring he put on her finger.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI won\u2019t stand this!\u201d cried Daisy. \u201cOh, please let\u2019s get out.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho are you, anyhow?\u201d broke out Tom. \u201cYou\u2019re one of that bunch that hangs around with Meyer Wolfshiem\u2014that much I happen to know. I\u2019ve made a little investigation into your affairs\u2014and I\u2019ll carry it further tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can suit yourself about that, old sport,\u201d said Gatsby steadily.<\/p>\n
\u201cI found out what your \u2018drugstores\u2019 were.\u201d He turned to us and spoke rapidly. \u201cHe and this Wolfshiem bought up a lot of side-street drugstores here and in Chicago and sold grain alcohol over the counter. That\u2019s one of his little stunts. I picked him for a bootlegger the first time I saw him, and I wasn\u2019t far wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat about it?\u201d said Gatsby politely. \u201cI guess your friend Walter Chase wasn\u2019t too proud to come in on it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you left him in the lurch, didn\u2019t you? You let him go to jail for a month over in New Jersey. God! You ought to hear Walter on the subject of you<\/i>.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe came to us dead broke. He was very glad to pick up some money, old sport.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t you call me \u2018old sport\u2019!\u201d cried Tom. Gatsby said nothing. \u201cWalter could have you up on the betting laws too, but Wolfshiem scared him into shutting his mouth.\u201d<\/p>\n
That unfamiliar yet recognizable look was back again in Gatsby\u2019s face.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat drugstore business was just small change,\u201d continued Tom slowly, \u201cbut you\u2019ve got something on now that Walter\u2019s afraid to tell me about.\u201d<\/p>\n
I glanced at Daisy, who was staring terrified between Gatsby and her husband, and at Jordan, who had begun to balance an invisible but absorbing object on the tip of her chin. Then I turned back to Gatsby\u2014and was startled at his expression. He looked\u2014and this is said in all contempt for the babbled slander of his garden\u2014as if he had \u201ckilled a man.\u201d For a moment the set of his face could be described in just that fantastic way.<\/p>\n
It passed, and he began to talk excitedly to Daisy, denying everything, defending his name against accusations that had not been made. But with every word she was drawing further and further into herself, so he gave that up, and only the dead dream fought on as the afternoon slipped away, trying to touch what was no longer tangible, struggling unhappily, undespairingly, toward that lost voice across the room.<\/p>\n
The voice begged again to go.<\/p>\n
\u201cPlease<\/i>, Tom! I can\u2019t stand this any more.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her frightened eyes told that whatever intentions, whatever courage she had had, were definitely gone.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou two start on home, Daisy,\u201d said Tom. \u201cIn Mr. Gatsby\u2019s car.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked at Tom, alarmed now, but he insisted with magnanimous scorn.<\/p>\n
\u201cGo on. He won\u2019t annoy you. I think he realizes that his presumptuous little flirtation is over.\u201d<\/p>\n
They were gone, without a word, snapped out, made accidental, isolated, like ghosts, even from our pity.<\/p>\n
After a moment Tom got up and began wrapping the unopened bottle of whisky in the towel.<\/p>\n
\u201cWant any of this stuff? Jordan?\u2026 Nick?\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n
\u201cNick?\u201d He asked again.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWant any?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo\u2026 I just remembered that today\u2019s my birthday.\u201d<\/p>\n
I was thirty. Before me stretched the portentous, menacing road of a new decade.<\/p>\n
It was seven o\u2019clock when we got into the coup\u00e9 with him and started for Long Island. Tom talked incessantly, exulting and laughing, but his voice was as remote from Jordan and me as the foreign clamour on the sidewalk or the tumult of the elevated overhead. Human sympathy has its limits, and we were content to let all their tragic arguments fade with the city lights behind. Thirty\u2014the promise of a decade of loneliness, a thinning list of single men to know, a thinning briefcase of enthusiasm, thinning hair. But there was Jordan beside me, who, unlike Daisy, was too wise ever to carry well-forgotten dreams from age to age. As we passed over the dark bridge her wan face fell lazily against my coat\u2019s shoulder and the formidable stroke of thirty died away with the reassuring pressure of her hand.<\/p>\n
So we drove on toward death through the cooling twilight.<\/p>\n
The young Greek, Michaelis, who ran the coffee joint beside the ash-heaps was the principal witness at the inquest. He had slept through the heat until after five, when he strolled over to the garage, and found George Wilson sick in his office\u2014really sick, pale as his own pale hair and shaking all over. Michaelis advised him to go to bed, but Wilson refused, saying that he\u2019d miss a lot of business if he did. While his neighbour was trying to persuade him a violent racket broke out overhead.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve got my wife locked in up there,\u201d explained Wilson calmly. \u201cShe\u2019s going to stay there till the day after tomorrow, and then we\u2019re going to move away.\u201d<\/p>\n
Michaelis was astonished; they had been neighbours for four years, and Wilson had never seemed faintly capable of such a statement. Generally he was one of these worn-out men: when he wasn\u2019t working, he sat on a chair in the doorway and stared at the people and the cars that passed along the road. When anyone spoke to him he invariably laughed in an agreeable, colourless way. He was his wife\u2019s man and not his own.<\/p>\n
So naturally Michaelis tried to find out what had happened, but Wilson wouldn\u2019t say a word\u2014instead he began to throw curious, suspicious glances at his visitor and ask him what he\u2019d been doing at certain times on certain days. Just as the latter was getting uneasy, some workmen came past the door bound for his restaurant, and Michaelis took the opportunity to get away, intending to come back later. But he didn\u2019t. He supposed he forgot to, that\u2019s all. When he came outside again, a little after seven, he was reminded of the conversation because he heard Mrs. Wilson\u2019s voice, loud and scolding, downstairs in the garage.<\/p>\n
\u201cBeat me!\u201d he heard her cry. \u201cThrow me down and beat me, you dirty little coward!\u201d<\/p>\n
A moment later she rushed out into the dusk, waving her hands and shouting\u2014before he could move from his door the business was over.<\/p>\n
The \u201cdeath car\u201d as the newspapers called it, didn\u2019t stop; it came out of the gathering darkness, wavered tragically for a moment, and then disappeared around the next bend. Mavro Michaelis wasn\u2019t even sure of its colour\u2014he told the first policeman that it was light green. The other car, the one going toward New York, came to rest a hundred yards beyond, and its driver hurried back to where Myrtle Wilson, her life violently extinguished, knelt in the road and mingled her thick dark blood with the dust.<\/p>\n
Michaelis and this man reached her first, but when they had torn open her shirtwaist, still damp with perspiration, they saw that her left breast was swinging loose like a flap, and there was no need to listen for the heart beneath. The mouth was wide open and ripped a little at the corners, as though she had choked a little in giving up the tremendous vitality she had stored so long.<\/p>\n
We saw the three or four automobiles and the crowd when we were still some distance away.<\/p>\n
\u201cWreck!\u201d said Tom. \u201cThat\u2019s good. Wilson\u2019ll have a little business at last.\u201d<\/p>\n
He slowed down, but still without any intention of stopping, until, as we came nearer, the hushed, intent faces of the people at the garage door made him automatically put on the brakes.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019ll take a look,\u201d he said doubtfully, \u201cjust a look.\u201d<\/p>\n
I became aware now of a hollow, wailing sound which issued incessantly from the garage, a sound which as we got out of the coup\u00e9 and walked toward the door resolved itself into the words \u201cOh, my God!\u201d uttered over and over in a gasping moan.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s some bad trouble here,\u201d said Tom excitedly.<\/p>\n
He reached up on tiptoes and peered over a circle of heads into the garage, which was lit only by a yellow light in a swinging metal basket overhead. Then he made a harsh sound in his throat, and with a violent thrusting movement of his powerful arms pushed his way through.<\/p>\n
The circle closed up again with a running murmur of expostulation; it was a minute before I could see anything at all. Then new arrivals deranged the line, and Jordan and I were pushed suddenly inside.<\/p>\n
Myrtle Wilson\u2019s body, wrapped in a blanket, and then in another blanket, as though she suffered from a chill in the hot night, lay on a worktable by the wall, and Tom, with his back to us, was bending over it, motionless. Next to him stood a motorcycle policeman taking down names with much sweat and correction in a little book. At first I couldn\u2019t find the source of the high, groaning words that echoed clamorously through the bare garage\u2014then I saw Wilson standing on the raised threshold of his office, swaying back and forth and holding to the doorposts with both hands. Some man was talking to him in a low voice and attempting, from time to time, to lay a hand on his shoulder, but Wilson neither heard nor saw. His eyes would drop slowly from the swinging light to the laden table by the wall, and then jerk back to the light again, and he gave out incessantly his high, horrible call:<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, my Ga-od! Oh, my Ga-od! Oh, Ga-od! Oh, my Ga-od!\u201d<\/p>\n
Presently Tom lifted his head with a jerk and, after staring around the garage with glazed eyes, addressed a mumbled incoherent remark to the policeman.<\/p>\n
\u201cM<\/i>–a<\/i>–v<\/i>\u2014\u201d the policeman was saying, \u201c\u2014o<\/i>\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, r<\/i>\u2014\u201d corrected the man, \u201cM<\/i>–a<\/i>–v<\/i>–r<\/i>–o<\/i>\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cListen to me!\u201d muttered Tom fiercely.<\/p>\n
\u201cr<\/i>\u2014\u201d said the policeman, \u201co<\/i>\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cg<\/i>\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cg<\/i>\u2014\u201d He looked up as Tom\u2019s broad hand fell sharply on his shoulder. \u201cWhat you want, fella?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happened?\u2014that\u2019s what I want to know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAuto hit her. Ins\u2019antly killed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cInstantly killed,\u201d repeated Tom, staring.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe ran out ina road. Son-of-a-bitch didn\u2019t even stopus car.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThere was two cars,\u201d said Michaelis, \u201cone comin\u2019, one goin\u2019, see?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGoing where?\u201d asked the policeman keenly.<\/p>\n
\u201cOne goin\u2019 each way. Well, she\u201d\u2014his hand rose toward the blankets but stopped halfway and fell to his side\u2014\u201cshe ran out there an\u2019 the one comin\u2019 from N\u2019York knock right into her, goin\u2019 thirty or forty miles an hour.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s the name of this place here?\u201d demanded the officer.<\/p>\n
\u201cHasn\u2019t got any name.\u201d<\/p>\n
A pale well-dressed negro stepped near.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt was a yellow car,\u201d he said, \u201cbig yellow car. New.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSee the accident?\u201d asked the policeman.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, but the car passed me down the road, going faster\u2019n forty. Going fifty, sixty.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCome here and let\u2019s have your name. Look out now. I want to get his name.\u201d<\/p>\n
Some words of this conversation must have reached Wilson, swaying in the office door, for suddenly a new theme found voice among his grasping cries:<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t have to tell me what kind of car it was! I know what kind of car it was!\u201d<\/p>\n
Watching Tom, I saw the wad of muscle back of his shoulder tighten under his coat. He walked quickly over to Wilson and, standing in front of him, seized him firmly by the upper arms.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ve got to pull yourself together,\u201d he said with soothing gruffness.<\/p>\n
Wilson\u2019s eyes fell upon Tom; he started up on his tiptoes and then would have collapsed to his knees had not Tom held him upright.<\/p>\n
\u201cListen,\u201d said Tom, shaking him a little. \u201cI just got here a minute ago, from New York. I was bringing you that coup\u00e9 we\u2019ve been talking about. That yellow car I was driving this afternoon wasn\u2019t mine\u2014do you hear? I haven\u2019t seen it all afternoon.\u201d<\/p>\n
Only the negro and I were near enough to hear what he said, but the policeman caught something in the tone and looked over with truculent eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s all that?\u201d he demanded.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m a friend of his.\u201d Tom turned his head but kept his hands firm on Wilson\u2019s body. \u201cHe says he knows the car that did it\u2026 It was a yellow car.\u201d<\/p>\n
Some dim impulse moved the policeman to look suspiciously at Tom.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd what colour\u2019s your car?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s a blue car, a coup\u00e9.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019ve come straight from New York,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
Someone who had been driving a little behind us confirmed this, and the policeman turned away.<\/p>\n
\u201cNow, if you\u2019ll let me have that name again correct\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
Picking up Wilson like a doll, Tom carried him into the office, set him down in a chair, and came back.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf somebody\u2019ll come here and sit with him,\u201d he snapped authoritatively. He watched while the two men standing closest glanced at each other and went unwillingly into the room. Then Tom shut the door on them and came down the single step, his eyes avoiding the table. As he passed close to me he whispered: \u201cLet\u2019s get out.\u201d<\/p>\n
Self-consciously, with his authoritative arms breaking the way, we pushed through the still gathering crowd, passing a hurried doctor, case in hand, who had been sent for in wild hope half an hour ago.<\/p>\n
Tom drove slowly until we were beyond the bend\u2014then his foot came down hard, and the coup\u00e9 raced along through the night. In a little while I heard a low husky sob, and saw that the tears were overflowing down his face.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe God damned coward!\u201d he whimpered. \u201cHe didn\u2019t even stop his car.\u201d<\/p>\n
The Buchanans\u2019 house floated suddenly toward us through the dark rustling trees. Tom stopped beside the porch and looked up at the second floor, where two windows bloomed with light among the vines.<\/p>\n
\u201cDaisy\u2019s home,\u201d he said. As we got out of the car he glanced at me and frowned slightly.<\/p>\n
\u201cI ought to have dropped you in West Egg, Nick. There\u2019s nothing we can do tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n
A change had come over him, and he spoke gravely, and with decision. As we walked across the moonlight gravel to the porch he disposed of the situation in a few brisk phrases.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll telephone for a taxi to take you home, and while you\u2019re waiting you and Jordan better go in the kitchen and have them get you some supper\u2014if you want any.\u201d He opened the door. \u201cCome in.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, thanks. But I\u2019d be glad if you\u2019d order me the taxi. I\u2019ll wait outside.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jordan put her hand on my arm.<\/p>\n
\u201cWon\u2019t you come in, Nick?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, thanks.\u201d<\/p>\n
I was feeling a little sick and I wanted to be alone. But Jordan lingered for a moment more.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s only half-past nine,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
I\u2019d be damned if I\u2019d go in; I\u2019d had enough of all of them for one day, and suddenly that included Jordan too. She must have seen something of this in my expression, for she turned abruptly away and ran up the porch steps into the house. I sat down for a few minutes with my head in my hands, until I heard the phone taken up inside and the butler\u2019s voice calling a taxi. Then I walked slowly down the drive away from the house, intending to wait by the gate.<\/p>\n
I hadn\u2019t gone twenty yards when I heard my name and Gatsby stepped from between two bushes into the path. I must have felt pretty weird by that time, because I could think of nothing except the luminosity of his pink suit under the moon.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d I inquired.<\/p>\n
\u201cJust standing here, old sport.\u201d<\/p>\n
Somehow, that seemed a despicable occupation. For all I knew he was going to rob the house in a moment; I wouldn\u2019t have been surprised to see sinister faces, the faces of \u201cWolfshiem\u2019s people,\u201d behind him in the dark shrubbery.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you see any trouble on the road?\u201d he asked after a minute.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
He hesitated.<\/p>\n
\u201cWas she killed?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought so; I told Daisy I thought so. It\u2019s better that the shock should all come at once. She stood it pretty well.\u201d<\/p>\n
He spoke as if Daisy\u2019s reaction was the only thing that mattered.<\/p>\n
\u201cI got to West Egg by a side road,\u201d he went on, \u201cand left the car in my garage. I don\u2019t think anybody saw us, but of course I can\u2019t be sure.\u201d<\/p>\n
I disliked him so much by this time that I didn\u2019t find it necessary to tell him he was wrong.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho was the woman?\u201d he inquired.<\/p>\n
\u201cHer name was Wilson. Her husband owns the garage. How the devil did it happen?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, I tried to swing the wheel\u2014\u201d He broke off, and suddenly I guessed at the truth.<\/p>\n
\u201cWas Daisy driving?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d he said after a moment, \u201cbut of course I\u2019ll say I was. You see, when we left New York she was very nervous and she thought it would steady her to drive\u2014and this woman rushed out at us just as we were passing a car coming the other way. It all happened in a minute, but it seemed to me that she wanted to speak to us, thought we were somebody she knew. Well, first Daisy turned away from the woman toward the other car, and then she lost her nerve and turned back. The second my hand reached the wheel I felt the shock\u2014it must have killed her instantly.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt ripped her open\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t tell me, old sport.\u201d He winced. \u201cAnyhow\u2014Daisy stepped on it. I tried to make her stop, but she couldn\u2019t, so I pulled on the emergency brake. Then she fell over into my lap and I drove on.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019ll be all right tomorrow,\u201d he said presently. \u201cI\u2019m just going to wait here and see if he tries to bother her about that unpleasantness this afternoon. She\u2019s locked herself into her room, and if he tries any brutality she\u2019s going to turn the light out and on again.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe won\u2019t touch her,\u201d I said. \u201cHe\u2019s not thinking about her.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t trust him, old sport.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow long are you going to wait?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAll night, if necessary. Anyhow, till they all go to bed.\u201d<\/p>\n
A new point of view occurred to me. Suppose Tom found out that Daisy had been driving. He might think he saw a connection in it\u2014he might think anything. I looked at the house; there were two or three bright windows downstairs and the pink glow from Daisy\u2019s room on the ground floor.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou wait here,\u201d I said. \u201cI\u2019ll see if there\u2019s any sign of a commotion.\u201d<\/p>\n
I walked back along the border of the lawn, traversed the gravel softly, and tiptoed up the veranda steps. The drawing-room curtains were open, and I saw that the room was empty. Crossing the porch where we had dined that June night three months before, I came to a small rectangle of light which I guessed was the pantry window. The blind was drawn, but I found a rift at the sill.<\/p>\n
Daisy and Tom were sitting opposite each other at the kitchen table, with a plate of cold fried chicken between them, and two bottles of ale. He was talking intently across the table at her, and in his earnestness his hand had fallen upon and covered her own. Once in a while she looked up at him and nodded in agreement.<\/p>\n
They weren\u2019t happy, and neither of them had touched the chicken or the ale\u2014and yet they weren\u2019t unhappy either. There was an unmistakable air of natural intimacy about the picture, and anybody would have said that they were conspiring together.<\/p>\n
As I tiptoed from the porch I heard my taxi feeling its way along the dark road toward the house. Gatsby was waiting where I had left him in the drive.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs it all quiet up there?\u201d he asked anxiously.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, it\u2019s all quiet.\u201d I hesitated. \u201cYou\u2019d better come home and get some sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n
He shook his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cI want to wait here till Daisy goes to bed. Good night, old sport.\u201d<\/p>\n
He put his hands in his coat pockets and turned back eagerly to his scrutiny of the house, as though my presence marred the sacredness of the vigil. So I walked away and left him standing there in the moonlight\u2014watching over nothing.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":299,"menu_order":8,"template":"","meta":{"pb_show_title":"on","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":[],"pb_section_license":""},"chapter-type":[48],"contributor":[],"license":[],"class_list":["post-24","chapter","type-chapter","status-publish","hentry","chapter-type-numberless"],"part":3,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thegreatgatsby\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/24","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thegreatgatsby\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thegreatgatsby\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/chapter"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thegreatgatsby\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/299"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thegreatgatsby\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/24\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":84,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thegreatgatsby\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/24\/revisions\/84"}],"part":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thegreatgatsby\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/parts\/3"}],"metadata":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thegreatgatsby\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/24\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thegreatgatsby\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=24"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thegreatgatsby\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=24"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thegreatgatsby\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=24"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/thegreatgatsby\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=24"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}