The Great Gatsby

man there.”

She pointed suddenly at me, and everyone looked at me accusingly. I
tried to show by my expression that I expected no affection.

“The only crazy I was was when I married him. I knew right away I made
a mistake. He borrowed somebody’s best suit to get married in, and
never even told me about it, and the man came after it one day when he
was out: ‘Oh, is that your suit?’ I said. ‘This is the first I ever
heard about it.’ But I gave it to him and then I lay down and cried to
beat the band all afternoon.”

“She really ought to get away from him,” resumed Catherine to me.
“They’ve been living over that garage for eleven years. And Tom’s the
first sweetie she ever had.”

The bottle of whisky—a second one—was now in constant demand by all
present, excepting Catherine, who “felt just as good on nothing at
all.” Tom rang for the janitor and sent him for some celebrated
sandwiches, which were a complete supper in themselves. I wanted to
get out and walk eastward toward the park through the soft twilight,
but each time I tried to go I became entangled in some wild, strident
argument which pulled me back, as if with ropes, into my chair. Yet
high over the city our line of yellow windows must have contributed