«We ought to plan something», yawned Miss Baker, sitting 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?»

Before I could answer she looked with a frightened expression at 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. «That’s what I get for marrying a brute, a great, big, hulking physical specimen ofa…»

«I hate that word hulking», objected Tom crossly, «even in kidding».^[14]

«Hulking», insisted Daisy.

Sometimes she and Miss Baker talked at once, but it was an uneasy talk. They were here, and they accepted Tom and me, making only a polite 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 sharply different from the West, where an evening was hurried from phase to phase toward its close.

«You make me feel uncivilized, Daisy», I confessed on my second glass of red wine. «Can’t you talk about crops or something?»

I meant nothing in particular by this remark, but it was taken up in an unexpected way.

«Civilization’s going to pieces», said Tom. «I am a terrible pessimist about things now. Have you read ‘The Rise of the Colored Empires’ by Goddard?»

«Why, no», I answered, rather surprised by his tone.

«Well, it’s a fine book, and everybody ought to read it. The idea is if we don’t look out the white race will disappear. It’s all scientific stuff; it’s been proved».

«Tom’s getting very thoughtful», said Daisy sadly. «He reads deep books with long words in them».

«Well, these books are all scientific», insisted Tom, glancing at her impatiently. «It’s up to us, who are the dominant race, to watch out or these other races will have control of things».

«We’ve got to beat them down», whispered Daisy.

«You ought to live in California…» began Miss Baker, but Tom interrupted her by shifting heavily in his chair.

«This idea is that we’re Nordics. I am, and you are, and you are, and…» After some hesitation he included Daisy with a slight nod, and she winked at me. «– And we’ve produced all the things that go to make civilization – oh, science and art, and all that. Do you see?»

There was something pathetic in his concentration. Then, almost immediately, the telephone rang inside and the butler left the porch.

Soon the butler came back and murmured something close to Tom’s ear. Tom frowned, pushed back his chair, and without a word went inside.

Suddenly Daisy threw her napkin on the table and excused herself and went into the house.

Miss Baker and I exchanged a short glance. I was about to speak when she sat up alertly and said «Sh!» in a warning voice. A subdued passionate murmur was clear in the room beyond, and Miss Baker leaned forward unashamed, trying to hear.

«This Mr. Gatsby is my neighbor», I said.

«Don’t talk. I want to hear what happens».

«Is something happening?» I said innocently.

«You mean to say you don’t know?» said Miss Baker, honestly surprised. «I thought everybody knew».

«I don’t».

«Why…» she said hesitantly, «Tom’s got some woman in New York».

«Got some woman?» I repeated.

Miss Baker nodded.

«She might have the decency not to telephone him at dinner time. Don’t you think?»

Almost at once Tom and Daisy were back at the table.

«It couldn’t be helped!^[15]» cried Daisy with tense gaiety.

She sat down, glanced at Miss Baker and then at me, and continued: «I looked outdoors for a minute, and it’s very romantic outdoors. There’s a bird on the lawn that I think must be a nightingale. His song is so beautiful!» Her voice sang: «It’s romantic, isn’t it, Tom?»

«Very romantic», he said.

The telephone rang inside, and Daisy shook her head decisively at Tom. Among the broken fragments of the last five minutes at table I was conscious of wanting to look directly at every one, and yet to avoid all eyes.

Tom and Miss Baker, with several feet of twilight between them, strolled back into the library. Trying to look pleasantly interested and a little deaf, I followed Daisy around a chain of connecting verandas to the porch in front. In its deep gloom we sat down side by side on a bamboo bench.

Daisy took her face in her hands, and her eyes moved gradually out into the velvet dusk. I saw that turbulent emotions possessed her, so I asked what I thought would be some sedative questions about her little girl.

«We don’t know each other very well, Nick», she said suddenly. «Even if we are cousins. You didn’t come to my wedding».

«I wasn’t back from the war».

«That’s true». She hesitated. «Well, I’ve had a very bad time, Nick, and I’m pretty cynical about everything».

Obviously she had reason to be. I waited but she didn’t say any more, and after a moment I returned to the subject of her daughter.

«I suppose she talks, and – eats, and everything».

«Oh, yes». She looked at me absently. «Listen, Nick; let me tell you what I said when she was born. Would you like to hear?»

«Very much».

«Well, she was less than an hour old and Tom was God knows where. I woke up out of the ether with an absolutely abandoned feeling, and asked the nurse if it was a boy or a girl. She told me it was a girl, and so I turned my head away and wept. ‘All right,’ I said, ‘I’m glad it’s a girl. And I hope she’ll be a fool – that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool».

«You see I think everything’s terrible», she went on in a convinced way. «Everybody thinks so – the most advanced people. And I KNOW. I’ve been everywhere and seen everything and done everything». She laughed with thrilling scorn. «Sophisticated – God, I’m sophisticated!»

The moment her voice stopped, I felt the basic insincerity of what she had said. It made me uneasy, as though the whole evening had been a trick of some sort to extract a contributory emotion from me. I waited, and sure enough, in a moment she looked at me with a grin on her lovely face, as if she had asserted her membership in a rather distinguished secret society to which she and Tom belonged.

Inside, the crimson room bloomed with light.

Tom and Miss Baker sat at either end of the long sofa and she read aloud to him from the SATURDAY EVENING POST.

When we came in she held us silent for a moment with a lifted hand.

«To be continued^[16]», she said, putting the magazine on the table, «in our next issue».

She stood up.

«Ten o’clock», she remarked, apparently finding the time on the ceiling. «Time for this good girl to go to bed».

«Jordan’s going to play in the tournament tomorrow», explained Daisy, «over at Westchester».

«Oh – you’re Jordan BAKER».

I knew now why her face was familiar – its scornful expression had looked out at me from many pictures of the sporting life at Asheville and Hot Springs and Palm Beach. I had heard some story of her too, a critical, unpleasant story, but what it was I had forgotten long ago.

«Good night», she said softly. «Wake me at eight, won’t you».

«If you’ll get up».

«I will. Good night, Mr. Carraway. See you soon».

«Of course you will», confirmed Daisy. «In fact I think I’ll arrange a marriage. Come over often, Nick, and I’ll sort of – oh – fling you together. You know – lock you up accidentally in linen closets and push you out to sea in a boat, and all that sort of thing…»

«Good night», called Miss Baker from the stairs. «I haven’t heard a word».

«She’s a nice girl», said Tom after a moment. «They shouldn’t let her run around the country this way».

«Who shouldn’t to?» inquired Daisy coldly.

«Her family».

«Her family is one aunt about a thousand years old. Besides, Nick’s going to look after her, aren’t you, Nick? She’s going to spend lots of week-ends out here this summer. I think the home influence will be very good for her».

Daisy and Tom looked at each other for a moment in silence.

«Is she from New York?» I asked quickly.

«From Louisville. Our girlhood was passed together there».

«Did you give Nick a little heart to heart talk^[17] on the veranda?» asked Tom suddenly.

«Did I?» She looked at me.

«I don’t remember, but I think we talked about the Nordic race. Yes, I’m sure we did».

«Don’t believe everything you hear, Nick», he advised me.

I said lightly that I had heard nothing at all, and a few minutes later I got up to go home. They came to the door with me and stood side by side in a cheerful square of light.

Their attention rather touched me and made them less remotely rich – nevertheless, I was confused as I drove away. It seemed to me that Daisy had to rush out of the house, with the child in arms – but apparently there were no such intentions in her head. As for Tom, the fact that he «had some woman in New York» was really less surprising than that he had been depressed by a book.

When I reached my estate at West Egg I sat for a while on a grass mower in the yard. The wind had blown off, the night was bright. Suddenly I saw that I was not alone – fifty feet away a figure had emerged from the shadow of my neighbor’s mansion and was standing with his hands in his pockets looking at the silver pepper of the stars. Something in his leisurely movements and the secure position of his feet upon the lawn suggested that it was Mr. Gatsby himself, come out to determine what share was his of our local heavens.

I decided to call to him. Miss Baker had mentioned him at dinner, and that could be an introduction. But I didn’t call to him, for he showed that he wanted to be alone – he stretched out his arms toward the dark water in a curious way, and he was trembling. I glanced in the direction of the sea – and distinguished nothing except a single green light, tiny and far away, that might be the end of a dock. When I looked once more for Gatsby he had vanished, and I was alone again in the unquiet darkness.