beardaintweird/The-Great-Gatsby · Datasets at Hugging Face

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hour.
I told her how I had stopped off in Chicago for a day on
my way east and how a dozen people had sent their love
through me.
‘Do they miss me?’ she cried ecstatically.
‘The whole town is desolate. All the cars have the left rear
wheel painted black as a mourning wreath and there’s a per-
sistent wail all night along the North Shore.’
‘How gorgeous! Let’s go back, Tom. Tomorrow!’ Then
she added irrelevantly, ‘You ought to see the baby.’
‘I’d like to.’
‘She’s asleep. She’s two years old. Haven’t you ever seen
her?’
‘Never.’
‘Well, you ought to see her. She’s——‘
Tom Buchanan who had been hovering restlessly about
the room stopped and rested his hand on my shoulder.

12 The Great Gatsby
‘What you doing, Nick?’
‘I’m a bond man.’
‘Who with?’
I told him.
‘Never heard of them,’ he remarked decisively.
This annoyed me.
‘You will,’ I answered shortly. ‘You will if you stay in the
East.’
‘Oh, I’ll stay in the East, don’t you worry,’ he said, glanc-
ing at Daisy and then back at me, as if he were alert for
something more. ‘I’d be a God Damned fool to live any-
where else.’
At this point Miss Baker said ‘Absolutely!’ with such
suddenness that I started—it was the first word she uttered
since I came into the room. Evidently it surprised her as
much as it did me, for she yawned and with a series of rapid,
deft movements stood up into the room.
‘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 retorted. ‘I’ve been trying to get
you to New York all afternoon.’
‘No, thanks,’ said Miss Baker to the four cocktails just in
from the pantry, ‘I’m absolutely in training.’
Her host looked at her incredulously.
‘You are!’ He took down his drink 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 Baker wondering what it was she ‘got
done.’ I enjoyed looking at her. She was a slender, small-

Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 13
breasted girl, with an erect carriage which she accentuated
by throwing her body backward at the shoulders like a young
cadet. Her grey sun-strained eyes looked back at me with
polite reciprocal curiosity out of a wan, charming discon-
tented face. It occurred to me now that I had seen her, or a
picture of her, somewhere before.
‘You live in West Egg,’ she remarked contemptuously. ‘I
know somebody there.’
‘I don’t know a single——‘
‘You must know Gatsby.’
‘Gatsby?’ demanded Daisy. ‘What Gatsby?’
Before I could reply that he was my neighbor dinner
was announced; wedging his tense arm imperatively un-
der mine Tom Buchanan compelled me from the room as
though he were moving a checker to another square.
Slenderly, languidly, their hands set lightly on their hips
the two young women preceded us out onto a rosy-colored
porch open toward the sunset where four candles flickered
on the table in the diminished wind.
‘Why CANDLES?’ objected Daisy, frowning. She
snapped them out with her fingers. ‘In two weeks it’ll be the
longest day in the year.’ She looked at us all radiantly. ‘Do
you always watch for the longest day of the year and then
miss it? I always watch for the longest day in the year and
then miss it.’
‘We ought to plan something,’ yawned Miss Baker, sit-
ting down at the table as if she were getting into bed.
‘All right,’ said Daisy. ‘What’ll we plan?’ She turned to
me helplessly. ‘What do people plan?’

14 The Great Gatsby
Before I could answer her eyes fastened with an awed ex-
pression on her little finger.
‘Look!’ she complained. ‘I hurt it.’
We all looked—the knuckle was black and blue.
‘You did it, Tom,’ she said accusingly. ‘I know you didn’t
mean to but you DID 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 word hulking,’ objected Tom crossly, ‘even in
kidding.’
‘Hulking,’ insisted Daisy.
Sometimes she and Miss Baker talked at once, unobtru-
sively and with a bantering inconsequence that was never
quite chatter, that was as cool as their white dresses and
their impersonal eyes in the absence of all desire. They were
here—and they accepted Tom and me, making only a po-
lite pleasant effort to entertain or to be entertained. They
knew that presently dinner would be over and a little later
the evening too would be over and casually put away. It was

hour.

I told her how I had stopped off in Chicago for a day on

my way east and how a dozen people had sent their love

through me.

‘Do they miss me?’ she cried ecstatically.

‘The whole town is desolate. All the cars have the left rear

wheel painted black as a mourning wreath and there’s a per-

sistent wail all night along the North Shore.’

‘How gorgeous! Let’s go back, Tom. Tomorrow!’ Then

she added irrelevantly, ‘You ought to see the baby.’

‘I’d like to.’

‘She’s asleep. She’s two years old. Haven’t you ever seen

her?’

‘Never.’

‘Well, you ought to see her. She’s——‘

Tom Buchanan who had been hovering restlessly about

the room stopped and rested his hand on my shoulder.

12 The Great Gatsby

‘What you doing, Nick?’

‘I’m a bond man.’

‘Who with?’

I told him.

‘Never heard of them,’ he remarked decisively.

This annoyed me.

‘You will,’ I answered shortly. ‘You will if you stay in the

East.’

‘Oh, I’ll stay in the East, don’t you worry,’ he said, glanc-

ing at Daisy and then back at me, as if he were alert for

something more. ‘I’d be a God Damned fool to live any-

where else.’

At this point Miss Baker said ‘Absolutely!’ with such

suddenness that I started—it was the first word she uttered

since I came into the room. Evidently it surprised her as

much as it did me, for she yawned and with a series of rapid,

deft movements stood up into the room.

‘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 retorted. ‘I’ve been trying to get

you to New York all afternoon.’

‘No, thanks,’ said Miss Baker to the four cocktails just in

from the pantry, ‘I’m absolutely in training.’

Her host looked at her incredulously.

‘You are!’ He took down his drink 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 Baker wondering what it was she ‘got

done.’ I enjoyed looking at her. She was a slender, small-

Free eBooks at Planet eBook.com 13

breasted girl, with an erect carriage which she accentuated

by throwing her body backward at the shoulders like a young

cadet. Her grey sun-strained eyes looked back at me with

polite reciprocal curiosity out of a wan, charming discon-

tented face. It occurred to me now that I had seen her, or a

picture of her, somewhere before.

‘You live in West Egg,’ she remarked contemptuously. ‘I

know somebody there.’

‘I don’t know a single——‘

‘You must know Gatsby.’

‘Gatsby?’ demanded Daisy. ‘What Gatsby?’

Before I could reply that he was my neighbor dinner

was announced; wedging his tense arm imperatively un-

der mine Tom Buchanan compelled me from the room as

though he were moving a checker to another square.

Slenderly, languidly, their hands set lightly on their hips

the two young women preceded us out onto a rosy-colored

porch open toward the sunset where four candles flickered

on the table in the diminished wind.

‘Why CANDLES?’ objected Daisy, frowning. She

snapped them out with her fingers. ‘In two weeks it’ll be the

longest day in the year.’ She looked at us all radiantly. ‘Do

you always watch for the longest day of the year and then

miss it? I always watch for the longest day in the year and

then miss it.’

‘We ought to plan something,’ yawned Miss Baker, sit-

ting down at the table as if she were getting into bed.

‘All right,’ said Daisy. ‘What’ll we plan?’ She turned to

me helplessly. ‘What do people plan?’

14 The Great Gatsby

Before I could answer her eyes fastened with an awed ex-

pression on her little finger.

‘Look!’ she complained. ‘I hurt it.’

We all looked—the knuckle was black and blue.

‘You did it, Tom,’ she said accusingly. ‘I know you didn’t

mean to but you DID 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 word hulking,’ objected Tom crossly, ‘even in

kidding.’

‘Hulking,’ insisted Daisy.

Sometimes she and Miss Baker talked at once, unobtru-

sively and with a bantering inconsequence that was never

quite chatter, that was as cool as their white dresses and

their impersonal eyes in the absence of all desire. They were

here—and they accepted Tom and me, making only a po-

lite pleasant effort to entertain or to be entertained. They

knew that presently dinner would be over and a little later

the evening too would be over and casually put away. It was