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1"I'm stiff," she complained, "I've been lying on that sofa for as long as I can remember." "Don't look at me," Daisy
2retorted, "I've been trying to get you to New York all afternoon." "No, thanks," said Miss Baker to the four cocktails
3just in from the pantry. "I'm absolutely in training." Her host looked at her incredulously. "You are!" He took down his
4drink as if it were a drop in the bottom of a glass. "How you ever get anything done is beyond me." I looked at Miss
5Baker, wondering what it was she "got done." I enjoyed looking at her. She was a slender, small-breasted girl, with an
6erect carriage, which she accentuated by throwing her body backward at the shoulders like a young cadet. Her grey
7sun-strained eyes looked back at me with polite reciprocal curiosity out of a wan, charming, discontented face. It
8occurred to me now that I had seen her, or a picture of her, somewhere before. "You live in West Egg," she remarked
9contemptuously. "I know somebody there." "I don't know a single--" "You must know Gatsby." "Gatsby?" demanded Daisy.
10"What Gatsby?" Before I could reply that he was my neighbour dinner was announced; wedging his tense arm imperatively
11under mine, Tom Buchanan compelled me from the room as though he were moving a checker to another square. Slenderly,
12languidly, their hands set lightly on their hips, the two young women preceded us out on to a rosy-coloured porch, open
13toward the sunset, where four candles flickered on the table in the diminished wind. "Why candles?" objected Daisy,
14frowning. She snapped them out with her fingers. "In two weeks it'll be the longest day in the year." She looked at us
15all radiantly. "Do you always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it? I always watch for the longest day
16in the year and then miss it." "We ought to plan something," yawned Miss Baker, sitting down at the table as if she were
17getting into bed. "All right," said Daisy. "What'll we plan?" She turned to me helplessly: "What do people plan?" Before
18I could answer her eyes fastened with an awed expression on her little finger. "Look!" she complained; "I hurt it." We
19all looked--the knuckle was black and blue. "You did it, Tom," she said accusingly. "I know you didn't mean to, but you
20did do it. That's what I get for marrying a brute of a man, a great, big, hulking physical specimen of a--" "I hate that
21word 'hulking,' " objected Tom crossly, "even in kidding." "Hulking," insisted Daisy. Sometimes she and Miss Baker
22talked at once, unobtrusively and with a bantering inconsequence that was never quite chatter, that was as cool as their
23white dresses and their impersonal eyes in the absence of all desire. They were here, and they accepted Tom and me,
24making only a polite pleasant effort to entertain or to be entertained. They knew that presently dinner would be over
25and a little later the evening too would be over and casually put away. It was sharply different from the West, where an
26evening was hurried from phase to phase towards its close, in a continually disappointed anticipation or else in sheer
27nervous dread of the moment itself. "You make me feel uncivilized, Daisy," I confessed on my second glass of corky but
28rather impressive claret. "Can't you talk about crops or something?" I meant nothing in particular by this remark, but
29it was taken up in an unexpected way. "Civilization's going to pieces," broke out Tom violently. "I've gotten to be a
30terrible pessimist about things. Have you read The Rise of the Coloured Empires by this man Goddard?" "Why, no," I
31answered, rather surprised by his tone. "Well, it's a fine book, and everybody ought to read it. The idea is if we don't
32look out the white race will be--will be utterly submerged. It's all scientific stuff; it's been proved." "Tom's getting
33very profound," said Daisy, with an expression of unthoughtful sadness. "He reads deep books with long words in them.
34What was that word we--" "Well, these books are all scientific," insisted Tom, glancing at her impatiently. "This fellow
35has worked out the whole thing. It's up to us, who are the dominant race, to watch out or these other races will have
36control of things." "We've got to beat them down," whispered Daisy, winking ferociously toward the fervent sun. "You
37ought to live in California--" began Miss Baker, but Tom interrupted her by shifting heavily in his chair. "This idea is
38that we're Nordics. I am, and you are, and you are, and--" After an infinitesimal hesitation he included Daisy with a
39slight nod, and she winked at me again. "--And we've produced all the things that go to make civilization--oh, science
40and art, and all that. Do you see?" There was something pathetic in his concentration, as if his complacency, more acute
41than of old, was not enough to him any more. When, almost immediately, the telephone rang inside and the butler left the
42porch Daisy seized upon the momentary interruption and leaned towards me. "I'll tell you a family secret," she whispered
43enthusiastically. "It's about the butler's nose. Do you want to hear about the butler's nose?" "That's why I came over
44tonight." "Well, he wasn't always a butler; he used to be the silver polisher for some people in New York that had a
45silver service for two hundred people. He had to polish it from morning till night, until finally it began to affect his
46nose--" "Things went from bad to worse," suggested Miss Baker. "Yes. Things went from bad to worse, until finally he had
47to give up his position." For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection upon her glowing face; her voice
48compelled me forward breathlessly as I listened--then the glow faded, each light deserting her with lingering regret,
49like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk. The butler came back and murmured something close to Tom's ear,
50whereupon Tom frowned, pushed back his chair, and without a word went inside. As if his absence quickened something
51within her, Daisy leaned forward again, her voice glowing and singing. "I love to see you at my table, Nick. You remind
52me of a--of a rose, an absolute rose. Doesn't he?" She turned to Miss Baker for confirmation: "An absolute rose?" This
53was untrue. I am not even faintly like a rose. She was only extemporizing, but a stirring warmth flowed from her, as if
54her heart was trying to come out to you concealed in one of those breathless, thrilling words. Then suddenly she threw
55her napkin on the table and excused herself and went into the house. Miss Baker and I exchanged a short glance
56consciously devoid of meaning. I was about to speak when she sat up alertly and said "Sh!" in a warning voice. A subdued
57impassioned murmur was audible in the room beyond, and Miss Baker leaned forward unashamed, trying to hear. The murmur
58trembled on the verge of coherence, sank down, mounted excitedly, and then ceased altogether. "This Mr. Gatsby you spoke
59of is my neighbour--" I began. "Don't talk. I want to hear what happens." "Is something happening?" I inquired
60innocently. "You mean to say you don't know?" said Miss Baker, honestly surprised. "I thought everybody knew." "I
61don't." "Why--" she said hesitantly. "Tom's got some woman in New York." "Got some woman?" I repeated blankly. Miss
62Baker nodded. "She might have the decency not to telephone him at dinner time. Don't you think?" Almost before I had
63grasped her meaning there was the flutter of a dress and the crunch of leather boots, and Tom and Daisy were back at the
64table. "It couldn't be helped!" cried Daisy with tense gaiety. She sat down, glanced searchingly at Miss Baker and then
65at me, and continued: "I looked outdoors for a minute, and it's very romantic outdoors. There's a bird on the lawn that
66I think must be a nightingale come over on the Cunard or White Star Line. He's singing away--" Her voice sang: "It's
67romantic, isn't it, Tom?" "Very romantic," he said, and then miserably to me: "If it's light enough after dinner, I want
68to take you down to the stables."
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