Leaves'll start falling pretty soon and then there's always trouble with the pipes. He turned to me apologetically. I didn't want to go to the city. I wasn't worth a decent stroke of work but it was more than that—I didn't want to leave Gatsby. I missed that train, and then another, before I could get myself away. We shook hands and I started away.
Just before I reached the hedge I remembered something and turned around. I've always been glad I said that. It was the only compliment I ever gave him, because I disapproved of him from beginning to end. First he nodded politely, and then his face broke into that radiant and understanding smile, as if we'd been in ecstatic cahoots on that fact all the time.
His gorgeous pink rag of a suit made a bright spot of color against the white steps and I thought of the night when I first came to his ancestral home three months before.
The lawn and drive had been crowded with the faces of those who guessed at his corruption—and he had stood on those steps, concealing his incorruptible dream, as he waved them goodbye. Up in the city I tried for a while to list the quotations on an interminable amount of stock, then I fell asleep in my swivel-chair. Just before noon the phone woke me and I started up with sweat breaking out on my forehead.
It was Jordan Baker; she often called me up at this hour because the uncertainty of her own movements between hotels and clubs and private houses made her hard to find in any other way.
Usually her voice came over the wire as something fresh and cool as if a divot from a green golf links had come sailing in at the office window but this morning it seemed harsh and dry. Probably it had been tactful to leave Daisy's house, but the act annoyed me and her next remark made me rigid. We talked like that for a while and then abruptly we weren't talking any longer.
I don't know which of us hung up with a sharp click but I know I didn't care. I couldn't have talked to her across a tea-table that day if I never talked to her again in this world. I called Gatsby's house a few minutes later, but the line was busy. I tried four times; finally an exasperated central told me the wire was being kept open for long distance from Detroit. Taking out my time-table I drew a small circle around the three-fifty train.
Then I leaned back in my chair and tried to think. It was just noon. When I passed the ashheaps on the train that morning I had crossed deliberately to the other side of the car.
I suppose there'd be a curious crowd around there all day with little boys searching for dark spots in the dust and some garrulous man telling over and over what had happened until it became less and less real even to him and he could tell it no longer and Myrtle Wilson's tragic achievement was forgotten.
Now I want to go back a little and tell what happened at the garage after we left there the night before. They had difficulty in locating the sister, Catherine.
She must have broken her rule against drinking that night for when she arrived she was stupid with liquor and unable to understand that the ambulance had already gone to Flushing. When they convinced her of this she immediately fainted as if that was the intolerable part of the affair. Someone kind or curious took her in his car and drove her in the wake of her sister's body. Until long after midnight a changing crowd lapped up against the front of the garage while George Wilson rocked himself back and forth on the couch inside.
For a while the door of the office was open and everyone who came into the garage glanced irresistibly through it. Finally someone said it was a shame and closed the door. Michaelis and several other men were with him—first four or five men, later two or three men. Still later Michaelis had to ask the last stranger to wait there fifteen minutes longer while he went back to his own place and made a pot of coffee.
After that he stayed there alone with Wilson until dawn. About three o'clock the quality of Wilson's incoherent muttering changed—he grew quieter and began to talk about the yellow car.
He announced that he had a way of finding out whom the yellow car belonged to, and then he blurted out that a couple of months ago his wife had come from the city with her face bruised and her nose swollen.
But when he heard himself say this, he flinched and began to cry "Oh, my God! Michaelis made a clumsy attempt to distract him. Come on there, try and sit still a minute and answer my question. How long have you been married?
Come on, George, sit still—I asked you a question. Did you ever have any children? The hard brown beetles kept thudding against the dull light and whenever Michaelis heard a car go tearing along the road outside it sounded to him like the car that hadn't stopped a few hours before.
He didn't like to go into the garage because the work bench was stained where the body had been lying so he moved uncomfortably around the office—he knew every object in it before morning—and from time to time sat down beside Wilson trying to keep him more quiet. Maybe even if you haven't been there for a long time? Maybe I could call up the church and get a priest to come over and he could talk to you, see? You must have gone to church once. Didn't you get married in a church?
Listen, George, listen to me. The effort of answering broke the rhythm of his rocking—for a moment he was silent. Then the same half knowing, half bewildered look came back into his faded eyes. Michaelis opened the drawer nearest his hand. There was nothing in it but a small expensive dog leash made of leather and braided silver. It was apparently new.
She tried to tell me about it but I knew it was something funny. Michaelis didn't see anything odd in that and he gave Wilson a dozen reasons why his wife might have bought the dog leash. But conceivably Wilson had heard some of these same explanations before, from Myrtle, because he began saying "Oh, my God!
You'd better try and sit quiet till morning. Wilson shook his head. His eyes narrowed and his mouth widened slightly with the ghost of a superior "Hm!
It was the man in that car. She ran out to speak to him and he wouldn't stop. Michaelis had seen this too but it hadn't occurred to him that there was any special significance in it. Having Daisy come to West Egg has the advantage of isolating her from Tom, and also makes it possible for Gatsby to stage an apparently accidental encounter with her.
In order for these events to happen, Gatsby needs Nick to invite Daisy over under the pretense of having tea. Instead of asking Nick to do this himself, Gatsby employs Jordan to convince Nick. According to Jordan, Gatsby has kept tabs on Daisy for years and followed her when she and Tom moved from Chicago to the east coast.
Tom finds out about the affair between Gatsby and Daisy in Chapter 7, just before the three of them, along with Nick, take a trip to New York. Although no one explicitly communicates this fact, Tom picks up on suspicious body language. He was astounded. The mistake occurs because, earlier in the day, Tom suggests that he and Gatsby swap cars for the drive to New York. Myrtle sees Tom from the room where her husband has locked her up. Later that night, Tom and Gatsby drive their own cars back from the city.
Although Gatsby himself never explicitly says how he became wealthy, readers could assume his money comes from illegal or nefarious practices, working as either a German spy or a gambler. Before readers are introduced to the more prominent eyes in the novel—those of Doctor T. Owl Eyes is the only character, perhaps besides Nick, who is curious about Gatsby and wants to see him for who he truly is. Daisy seems unhappy with her marriage to Tom from the outset of the novel. Three hours have passed and she has not seen or heard from her husband nor son.
Seen throughout the book, Of Mice and Men, the character development of the main character, Lennie, was changing to a more violent and uncontrollable human, and foreshadowed his death. In the novel of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck, the character George is justified in killing Lennie because of his actions caused by his disabilities allowing for a better life. Oikawa was home a morning late. He told Iwaizumi that he was going out clubbing with a few friends and be back before midnight.
It was eight o 'clock in the morning and Iwaizumi stood up all night waiting for his husband to return home. He held their baby in his arms as he was crying all night long and finally fell asleep.
Oikawa tried to sneak in, but with his husband sitting right in front of their door to his house, it was inevitable to sneak into their home without being caught. His mother knocked on his door and warned him he was going to be late for work and needs to hurry in order to make the next train.
Gregor does not want to rush to the train station so he decides to stay in bed. The first time Kiley realized her father was in the military was when he missed her 6th birthday party. He was on leave in Iraq.
Chapter 8 After such a tragic night with the accident both nick and Gatsby had a sleepless night. On the morning nick went to see Gatsby and he tells him that he stood outside until four o 'clock and nothing happened.
Nick advice Gatsby as a friend that it 's better to leave town but he insist he won 't, and that he will wait for Daisy. On the other hand Wilson thinks when he kills Gatsby that he is avenging his wife 's deaths but that 's simply a misunderstanding and finally the murderer is the only character who seems to care about conventional morality and rules of socially acceptable behavior.
In chapter eight Gatsby states that: "He couldn 't possibly leave Daisy until he knew what she was going to do.
He was clutching at some last hope and I couldn 't bear to shake him free" Through this quote it is evident the deep affection and love.
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