The Great Gatsby - Chapter 7

Gatsby confronts Tom, demanding Daisy choose him. She hesitates. On the way home, Daisy accidentally kills Myrtle, but Gatsby takes the blame. Tensions explode, and Gatsby’s dream starts collapsing under the weight of reality. Summary by Dream AudioBooks

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter seven of the Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald.
It was when curiosity about Gatsby was at its highest
that the lights in his house failed to go on
one Saturday night, and as obscurely as it had begun,
his career as Trimalchio was over. Only gradually did I

(00:20):
become aware that the automobiles which turned expectantly into his
drive stayed for just a minute and then drove sulkily away.
Wondering if he were sick, I went over to find out.
An unfamiliar butler with a villainous face squinted at me
suspiciously from the door. Is mister Gatsby sick? Nope? After

(00:44):
a pause, he added, sir, in a dilatory, grudging way.
I hadn't seen him around, and I was rather worried.
Tell him. Mister Carroway came over, who he demanded rudely, carraway, carraway,
all right, I'll tell him. Abruptly he slammed the door.

(01:08):
My Finn informed me that Gatsby had dismissed every servant
in his house a week ago and replaced them with
half a dozen others who never went into West Egg
Village to be bribed by the tradesman, but ordered moderate supplies.
Over the telephone. The grocery boy reported that the kitchen
looked like a pig stye, and the general opinion in
the village was that the new people weren't servants at all.

(01:33):
Next day, Gatsby called me on the phone going away.
I inquired no old sport. I hear you fired all
your servants. I wanted somebody who wouldn't gossip. Daisy comes
over quite often in the afternoons, so the whole caravansarie

(01:55):
had fallen in like a card house at the disapproval.
In her eyes. There some people volsheim wanted to do
something for. They're all brothers and sisters. They used to
run a small hotel. I see he was calling up
at Daisy's request. Would I come to lunch at her
house tomorrow? Miss Baker would be there. Half an hour later,

(02:20):
Daisy herself telephoned and seemed relieved to find that I
was coming. Something was up, And yet I couldn't believe
that they would choose this occasion for a scene, especially
for the rather harrowing scene that Gatsby had outlined in
the garden. The next day was broiling almost the last,

(02:40):
certainly the warmest of the summer. As my train emerged
from the tunnel into sunlight, only the hot whistles of
the National Biscuit Company broke the simmering hush. At noon,
the straw seats of the car hovered on the edge
of combustion. The woman next to me perspired delicately for
a while into her white shirt waist, and then, as

(03:02):
her newspaper dampened under her fingers, lapsed despairingly into deep heat.
With a desolate cry. Her pocket book slapped to the floor.
Oh my, she gasped. I picked it up with a
weary bend and handed it back to her, holding it
at arm's length and by the extreme tip of the corners,

(03:25):
to indicate that I had no designs upon it. But
every one near by, including the woman, suspected me just
the same. Hot, said the conductor to familiar faces. Some weather, hot, hot, hot.
Is it hot enough for you? Is it hot? Is it?

(03:45):
My commutation ticket? Came back to me with a dark
stain from his hand, that any one should care in
this heat, whose flushed lips he kissed, whose head may
damp the pajama pocket over his heart through the hall
of the Buchanan's house blew a faint wind, carrying the
sound of the telephone bell out to Gatsby and me.

(04:07):
As we waited at the door, the master's body roared
the butler into the mouthpiece. I'm sorry, madam, but we
can't furnish it. It's far too hot to touch this noon.
What he really said was yes, yes, I'll see. He

(04:28):
set down the receiver and came toward us, glistening slightly,
to take our stiff hats. Madame expects you in the salon,
he cried, needlessly, indicating the direction. In this heat, every
extra gesture was an affront to the common store of life.

(04:50):
The room, shadowed well with awnings, was dark and cool.
Daisy and Jordan lay upon an enormous couch, like silver idols,
weighing down their own white dresses against the singing breeze
of the fans. We can't move, they said together. Jordan's

(05:11):
fingers powdered white over their tan rested for a moment
in mine and mister Thomas Buchanan, the athlete, I inquired simultaneously.
I heard his voice, gruff, muffled, husky at the hall telephone.
Gatsby stood in the center of the Crimson carpet and

(05:32):
gazed around with fascinated eyes. Daisy watched him and laughed
her sweet, exciting laugh. A tiny gust of powder rose
from her bosom into the air. The rumor is whispered Jordan,
that that's Tom's girl on the telephone. We were silent.

(05:54):
The voice in the hall rose high with annoyance. Very well,
then I sell you the car at all. I'm under
no obligations to you at all. And as for your
bothering me about it at lunch time, I won't stand
that at all. Holding down the receiver, said Daisy cynically. No,

(06:15):
he's not, I assured her. It's a bonified deal. I
happen to know about it. Tom flung open the door,
blocked out its space for a moment with his thick body,
and hurried into the room. Mister Gatsby. He put out
his broad flat hand with well concealed dislike. I'm glad

(06:36):
to see you, sir, Nick. Make us a cold drink,
cried Daisy. As he left the room again. She got
up and went over to Gatsby and pulled his face down,
kissing him on the mouth. You know I love you
she murmured, you forget there's a lady present, said Jordan.

(06:58):
Daisy looked round. Doubtful you kiss Nick too? What a
low vulgar girl. I don't care, cried Daisy, and began
to clog on the brick fireplace. Then she remembered the
heat and sat down yildily on the couch. Just as
a freshly laundered nurse leading a little girl came into

(07:19):
the room. Blessed precious, she crooned, holding out her arms,
Come to your own mother that loves you. The child,
relinquished by the nurse, rushed across the room and rooted
shyly into her mother's dress. The blessed precious, did mother

(07:42):
get powder on your old yellowy hair? Stand up now
and say how de do? Gatsby and I in turn
leaned down and took the small, reluctant hand. Afterward, he
kept looking at the child with surprise. I don't think
he had ever really believed in its existence before I
got dressed before luncheon, said the child, turning eagerly to Daisy.

(08:08):
That's because your mother wanted to show you off. Her
face bent into the single wrinkle of the small white neck.
You dream you you absolute little dream, yes, admitted the child, calmly.
Aunt Jordan's got on a white dress too. How do

(08:28):
you like mother's friends? Daisy turned her around so that
she faced Gatsby. Do you think they're pretty? Where's daddy?
She doesn't look like her father, explained Daisy. She looks
like me. She's got my hair and shape of the face.
Daisy sat back upon the couch. The nurse took a

(08:50):
step forward and held out her hand. Come Pammy, good bye, sweetheart.
With a reluctant backward glance, the well disciplined child held
to her nurse's hand and was pulled out the door
just as Tom came back, preceding four gin Rickey's that
clicked full of ice. Gatsby took up his drink. They

(09:15):
certainly look cool, he said, with visible tension. We drank
in long, greedy swallows. I read somewhere that the sun's
getting hotter every year, said Tom genially. It seems that
pretty soon the Earth's going to fall into the sun.
Or wait a minute, it's just the opposite. The Sun's

(09:36):
getting colder every year. Come outside, he suggested to Gatsby.
I'd like you to have a look at the place
I went with them out to the verandah on the
green Sound, Stagnant in the heat, one small sail crawled
slowly toward the fresher sea. Gatsby's eyes followed it. Momentarily,

(09:58):
he raised his hand and pointed across the bay. I'm
right across from you, so you are. Our eyes lifted
over the rose beds and the hot lawn and the
weedy refuse of the dog days along shore. Slowly the
white wings of the boat moved against the cool blue

(10:19):
limit of the sky. A head lay the scalloped ocean
and the abounding blessed isles. There's sport for you, said Tom, nodding.
I'd like to be out there with him. For about
an hour. We had luncheon in the dining room, darkened
too against the heat, and drank down nervous gaiety with

(10:41):
the cold ale. What'll we do with ourselves this afternoon,
cried Daisy, And the day after that and the next
thirty years. Don't be morbid, Jordan said. Life starts all
over again when it gets crisp in the fall. But
it's so hot, insisted Daisy, on the verge of tears,

(11:04):
and everything so confused. Let's all go to town. Her
voice struggled on through the heat, beating against it, molding
its senselessness into forms. I've heard of making a garage
out of a stable, Tom was saying to Gatsby. But
I'm the first man who ever made a stable out
of a garage. Who wants to go to town, demanded

(11:29):
Daisy insistently. Gatsby's eyes floated toward her. Ah, she cried,
you look so cool. Their eyes met, and they stared
together at each other, alone in space. With an effort,
she glanced down at the table. You always look so cool,

(11:50):
she repeated. She had told him that she loved him,
and Tom Buchanan saw he was a His mouth opened
a little, and he looked at Gatsby and then back
at Daisy, as if he had just recognized her as
some one he knew a long time ago. You resemble

(12:12):
the advertisement of the man, She went on, innocently. You
know the advertisement of the man. All right, broke in
Tom quickly. I'm perfectly willing to go to town. Come on,
we're all going to town. He got up, his eyes
still flashing between Gatsby and his wife. No one moved,

(12:33):
Come on. His temper cracked a little. What's the matter anyhow,
If we're going to town, let's start. His hand trembling
with his effort at self control, bore to his lips
the last of his glass of ale. Daisy's voice got
us to our feet and out on to the blazing

(12:54):
gravel drive. Are we just going to go? She objected,
like this. Aren't we going to let anyone smoke a
cigarette first? Everybody smoked all through lunch. Oh, let's have fun,
she begged him. It's too hot to fuss. He didn't answer.

(13:15):
Have it your own way, she said, Come on, Jordan.
They went upstairs to get ready. While we three men
stood there shuffling the hot pebbles with our feet, A
silver curve of the moon hovered already in the western sky.
Gatsby started to speak, changed his mind, but not before

(13:36):
Tom wheeled and faced him expectantly. Have you got your
stables here? Asked Gatsby, with an effort, about a quarter
of a mile down the road. Oh a pause, I
don't see the idea of going to town, broke out
Tom savagely. Women get these notions in their heads. Shall

(14:01):
we take anything to drink? Called Daisy from an upper window,
I'll get some whisky, answered Tom. He went inside. Gatsby
turned to me rigidly. I can't say anything in his house,
old sport. She's got an indiscreet voice. I remarked. It's

(14:21):
full of I hesitated. Her voice is full of money,
he said suddenly. That was it I'd never understood before.
It was full of money. That was the inexhaustible charm
that rose and fell in it, the jingle of it,
the cymbals song of it, high in a white palace,

(14:45):
the King's daughter, the Golden Girl. Tom came out of
the house, wrapping a quart bottle in a towel, followed
by Daisy and Jordan, wearing small, tight hats of metallic
cloth and carrying light capes over their arms. Shall we
all go in my car, suggested Gatsby. He felt the

(15:05):
hot green leather of the seat. I ought to have
left it in the shade. Is it standard? Shift, demanded Tom. Yes, well,
you take my coupe and let me drive your car
to town. The suggestion was distasteful to Gatsby. I don't
think there's much gas, he objected. Plenty of gas, said

(15:30):
Tom boisterously. He looked at the gage, and if it
runs out, I can stop at a drug store. You
can buy anything at a drug store nowadays. A pause
followed this apparently pointless remark. Daisy looked at Tom, frowning
and an indefinable expression at once definitely unfamiliar and vaguely recognizable,

(15:53):
as if I had only heard it described in words
passed over Gatsby's face. Come on, Daisy, said Tom, pressing
her with his hand toward Gatsby's car. I'll take you
in this circus wagon. He opened the door, but she
moved out of the circle of his arm. You take

(16:13):
Nick and Jordan, we'll follow you in the coop. She
walked close to Gatsby, touching his coat with her hand.
Jordan and Tom and I got into the front seat
of Gatsby's car. Tom pushed the unfamiliar gears tentatively, and
we shot off into the oppressive heat, leaving them out
of sight behind. Did you see that, demanded Tom. See what?

(16:42):
He looked at me, keenly realizing that Jordan and I
must have known all along. You think I'm pretty dumb,
don't you, he suggested? Perhaps I am, but I have
a almost a second sight sometimes that tells me what
to do. Maybe you don't believe that, but science, he paused.

(17:02):
The immediate contingency overtook him, pulled him back from the
edge of the theoretical abyss. I've made a small investigation
of this fellow, he continued, I could have gone deeper
if i'd known. Do you mean you've been to a medium,
inquired Jordan humorously. What confused? He stared at us as

(17:24):
we laughed, A medium about Gatsby, about Gatsby. No I haven't,
I said, I'd been making a small investigation of his past,
and you found he was an Oxford man, said Jordan helpfully.
An Oxford man. He was incredulous, Like hell he is

(17:45):
he wears a pink suit. Nevertheless, he is an Oxford man, Oxford,
New Mexico, snorted Tom contemptuously, or something like that. Listen, Tom,
if you're such a snob, why did you invite him
to lunch, demanded Jordan. Crossly. Daisy invited him. She knew

(18:07):
him before we were married. God knows where. We were
all irritable now with the fading ale and aware of it,
we drove for a while in silence. Then as doctor t.
J Eckelberg's faded eyes came into sight, down the road.
I remembered Gatsby's caution about gasolene. We've got enough to

(18:29):
get us to town, said Tom. But there's a garage
right here, objected Jordan. I don't want to get stalled
in this baking heat. Tom threw on both brakes impatiently,
and we slid to an abrupt, dusty stop under Wilson's sign.
After a moment, the proprietary merged from the interior of

(18:49):
his establishment and gazed hollow eyed at the car. Let
us have some gas, cried Tom roughly. What do you
think we stopped for to admire the view? I'm sick,
said Wilson, without moving, been sick all day. What's the matter,
I'm all run down? Well? Shall I help myself? Tom demanded,

(19:14):
You sounded well enough on the phone. With an effort,
Wilson left the shade and support of the doorway, and,
breathing hard, unscrewed the cap of the tank. In the sunlight.
His face was green. I didn't mean to interrupt your lunch,
he said, but I need money pretty bad, and I
was wondering what you were going to do with your

(19:35):
old car. How do you like this one, inquired Tom.
I bought it last week. It's a nice yellow one,
said Wilson as he strained at the handle. Like to
buy it, big chance, Wilson smiled faintly. No, but I
could make some money on the other What do you

(19:57):
want money for? All of a sudden, I've been here
too long. I want to get away my wife and
I want to go west. Your wife does, exclaimed Tom, startled.
She's been talking about it for ten years. He rested
for a moment against the pump, shading his eyes. And

(20:18):
now she's going away, whether she wants to or not.
I'm going to get her away. The coop flashed by
us with a flurry of dust and the flash of
a waving hand. What do I owe you? Demanded Tom harshly.
I just got wised up to something funny the last
two days, remarked Wilson. That's why I want to get away.

(20:42):
That's why I've been bothering you about the car. What
do I owe you? Dollar twenty? The relentless beating heat
was beginning to confuse me, and I had a bad
moment there before I realized that so his suspicions hadn't
alighted on Tom. He had discovered that Myrtle had some

(21:06):
sort of life apart from him, in another world, and
the shock had made him physically sick. I stared at him,
and then at Tom, who had made a parallel discovery
less than an hour before, and it occurred to me
that there was no difference between men in intelligence or
race so profound as the difference between the sick and

(21:27):
the well. Wilson was so sick that he looked guilty,
unforgivably guilty, as if he had just got some poor
girl with child. I'll let you have that car, said Tom.
I'll send it over tomorrow afternoon. That locality was always

(21:48):
vaguely disquieting, even in the broad glare of afternoon. And
now I turned my head as though I had been
warned of something behind Over the ash heaps, the giant
eyes of doctor T. D. J Eckelberg kept their vigil,
but I perceived after a moment that other eyes were
regarding us with peculiar intensity from less than twenty feet away.

(22:12):
In one of the windows over the garage, the curtains
had been moved aside a little, and Myrtle Wilson was
peering down at the car. So engrossed was she that
She had no consciousness of being observed, and one emotion
after another crept into her face like objects into a
slowly developing picture. Her expression was curiously familiar. It was

(22:35):
an expression I had often seen on women's faces, But
on Myrtle Wilson's face it seemed purposeless and inexplicable, until
I realized that her eyes, wide with jealous terror, were
fixed not on Tom, but on Jordan Baker, whom she
took to be his wife. There is no confusion like

(22:57):
the confusion of a simple mind. And as we drove away,
Tom was feeling the hot whips of panic. His wife
and his mistress, until an hour ago, secure and inviolate,
were slipping precipitately from his control. Instinct made him step
on the accelerator with the double purpose of overtaking Daisy

(23:18):
and leaving Wilson behind. And we sped along toward Astoria
at fifty miles an hour, until among the spidery girders
of the elevated we came in sight of the easy
going Blue Coop. Those big movies around fiftieth Street are cool,
suggested Jordan. I love New York on summer afternoons, when

(23:39):
everyone's away there's something very sensuous about it. Over ripe,
as if all sorts of funny fruits were going to
fall into your hands. The word sensuous had the effect
of further disquieting Tom, But before he could invent a protest,
the coop came to a stop and Daisy signaled us
to draw alongside. Where are we going, she cried, How

(24:05):
about the movies? It's so hot, she complained, You go,
we'll ride around and meet you after. With an effort,
her wit rose faintly. We'll meet you on some corner.
I'll be the man smoking two cigarettes. We can't argue

(24:25):
about it here, Tom said impatiently, as a truck gave
out a cursing whistle behind us. You follow me to
the south side of Central Park in front of the Plaza.
Several times he turned his head and looked back for
their car, and if the traffic delayed them, he slowed
up until they came into sight. I think he was
afraid they would dart down a side street and out

(24:48):
of his life forever. But they didn't, and we all
took the less explicable step of engaging the parlor of
a suite in the Plaza hotel. The prolonged and tumultuous
argument that ended by herding us into that room eludes me,
though I have a sharp physical memory that in the

(25:09):
course of it, my underwear kept climbing like a damp
snake around my legs, and intermittent beads of sweat raced
cool across my back. The notion originated with Daisy's suggestion
that we hire five bathrooms and take cold baths, and
then assumed more tangible form as a place to have

(25:30):
a mint julip. Each of us said over and over
that it was a crazy idea. We all talked at
once to a baffled clerk and thought, or pretended to
think that we were being very funny. The room was
large and stifling, and though it was already four o'clock,
opening the windows admitted only a gust of hot shrubbery

(25:52):
from the park. Daisy went to the mirror and stood
with her back to us, fixing her hair. It's a
swell sweet, whispered Jordan respectfully, and everyone laughed. Open another window,
commanded Daisy, without turning around. There aren't any more. Well,

(26:14):
we'd better telephone for an axe. The thing to do
is to forget about the heat. Said Tom impatiently. You
make it ten times worse by crabbing about it. He
unrolled the bottle of whiskey from the towel and put
it on the table. Why not let her alone, Old Sport,
remarked Gatsby. You're the one that wanted to come to town.

(26:39):
There was a moment of silence. The telephone book slipped
from its nail and splashed to the floor, whereupon Jordan whispered,
excuse me, But this time no one laughed. I'll pick
it up, I offered, I've got it. Gatsby examined the
parted string, muttered hum in an interested way, and tossed

(27:04):
the book on a chair. That's a great expression of yours,
isn't it, said Tom, sharply. What is all this old
Sport business? Where'd you pick that up? Now? See here, Tom,
said Daisy, turning around from the mirror. If you are
going to make personal remarks, I won't stay here a minute.

(27:24):
Call up and order some ice for the mint julip.
As Tom took up the receiver, the compressed heat exploded
into sound, and we were listening to the portentous chords
of Mendelssohn's wedding March from the ball room below. Imagine
marrying anybody in this heat, cried Jordan, dismally. Still, I

(27:47):
was married in the middle of June. Daisy remembered Louisville.
In June, somebody fainted. Who was it? Fainted? Tom Biloxy,
he answered, shortly named Biloxi blocks Biloxi, and he made boxes,
that's a fact. And he was from Biloxi, Tennessee. They

(28:09):
carried him into my house, appended Jordan, because we lived
just two doors from the church. And he stayed three
weeks until Daddy told him he had to get out.
The day after he left, Daddy died. After a moment,
she added, as if she might have sounded irreverent, there
wasn't any connection. I used to know a Bill Biloxi

(28:32):
from Memphis, I remarked. That was his cousin. I knew
his whole family history. Before he left, he gave me
an aluminum putter that I used to day. The music
had died down as the ceremony began, and now a
long cheer floated in at the window, followed by intermittent
cries of yay, and finally by a burst of jazz.

(28:56):
As the dancing began. We are getting old, said Daisy.
If we were young, we'd rise and dance. Remember Biloxi,
Jordan warned her, where'd you know him, Tom, Biloxi, He
concentrated with an effort. I didn't know him. He was
a friend of Daisy's. He was not, She denied, I'd

(29:20):
never seen him before. He came down in the private
car well. He said he knew you. He said he
was raised in Louisville as a bird. Brought him around
at the last minute and asked if we had room
for him. Jordan smiled. He was probably bumming his way home.
He told me he was president of your class at Yale.

(29:43):
Tom and I looked at each other blankly. Biloxi, first place,
we didn't have any president. Gatsby's foot beat a short,
restless tattoo, and Tom eyed him. Suddenly, by the way,
mister Gahts, I understand you are an Oxford man. Not exactly. Oh, yes,

(30:07):
I understand you went to Oxford. Yes, I went there.
A pause, then Tom's voice, incredulous and insulting. You must
have gone there about the time Biloxey went to Newhaven.
Another pause. A waiter knocked and came in with crushed

(30:29):
mint and ice, but the silence was unbroken by his
thank you and the soft closing of the door. This
tremendous detail was to be cleared up at last. I
told you I went there, said Gatsby. I heard you,
but i'd like to know when it was in nineteen nineteen.

(30:50):
I only stayed five months. That's why I can't really
call myself an Oxford man. Tom glanced around to see
if we mirrored his unbelief, but we were all looking
at Gatsby. It was an opportunity they gave to some
of the officers after the armistice, He continued. We could
go to any of the universities in England or France.

(31:13):
I wanted to get up and slap him on the back.
I had one of those renewals of complete faith in
him that I had experienced before. Daisy rose, smiling faintly,
and went to the table. Open the whiskey, Tom, she ordered,
and I'll make you a mint, Julip. Then you won't
seem so stupid to yourself. Look at the mint. Wait

(31:37):
a minute, snapped Tom. I want to ask mister Gatsby
one more question. Go on, Gatsby said, politely, what kind
of a row are you trying to cause in my house. Anyhow,
he isn't causing a row. Daisy looked desperately from one
to the other. You're causing a row. Please have a

(32:00):
little self control. Self control, repeated Tom incredulously. I suppose
the latest thing is to sit back and let mister
nobody from nowhere make love to your wife. Well, if
that's the idea, you can count me out. Nowadays people
begin by sneering at family life and family institutions, and
next they'll throw everything overboard and have inter marriage between

(32:24):
black and white. Flushed with his impassioned gibberish, he saw
himself standing alone on the last barrier of civilization. We're
all white here, murmured Jordan. I know I'm not very popular.
I don't give big parties. I suppose you've got to

(32:45):
make your house into a pig stye in order to
have any friends in the modern world. Angry as I was,
as we all were, I was tempted to laugh whenever
he opened his mouth. The transition from libertine to prig
was so complete. I've got something to tell you old Sport,

(33:07):
began Gatsby, but Daisy guessed at his intention. Please don't
she interrupted helplessly. Please, let's all go home. Why don't
we all go home? That's a good idea. I got up.
Come on, Tom, nobody wants a drink. I want to
know what mister Gatsby has to tell me. Your wife

(33:30):
doesn't love you, said Gatsby. She's never loved you, she
loves me. You must be crazy, exclaimed Tom. Automatically. Gatsby
sprang to his feet, vivid with excitement. She never loved you,
do you hear, she cried? She only married you because
I was poor and she was tired of waiting for me.

(33:50):
It was a terrible mistake, but in her heart she
never loved anyone except me. At this point, Jordan and
I tried to go, but Tom and Gatsby insisted with
competitive firmness, that we remain, as though neither of them
had anything to conceal, and it would be a privilege
to partake vicariously of their emotions. Sit down, Daisy. Tom's

(34:14):
voice groped unsuccessfully for the paternal note. What's been going on?
I want to hear all about it. I told you
what's been going on, said Gatsby, going on for five
years and you didn't know. Tom turned to Daisy sharply.
You've been seeing this fellow for five years, not seeing,

(34:37):
said Gatsby. No, we couldn't meet, but both of us
loved each other all that time, old sport, and you
didn't know. I used to laugh sometimes, but there was
no laughter in his eyes to think that you didn't know.
Oh that's all. Tom tapped his thick fingers together like

(34:57):
a clergyman and leaned back in his chair. You're crazy,
he exploded. I can't speak about what happened five years
ago because I didn't know Daisy then. And I'll be
damned if I see how you got within a mile
of her, unless you brought the groceries to the back door.
But all the rest of that's a goddamned lie. Daisy

(35:19):
loved me when she married me, and she loves me now, No,
said Gatsby, shaking his head. She does, though. The trouble
is that sometimes she gets foolish ideas in her head
and doesn't know what she's doing, he nodded sagely. And
what's more, I love Daisy too. Once in a while
I go off on a spree and make a fool

(35:39):
of myself, but I always come back and in my heart.
I love her all the time. You're revolting, said Daisy.
She turned to me, and her voice, dropping an octave lower,
filled the room with thrilling scorn. Do you know why
we left Chicago? I'm surprized that they didn't treat you

(36:01):
to the story of that little spree. Gatsby walked over
and stood beside her. Daisy, that's all over now, he said, earnestly.
It doesn't matter any more. Just tell him the truth
that you never loved him, and it's all wiped out forever.
She looked at him blindly. Why how could I love him? Possibly?

(36:25):
You never loved him, she hesitated. Her eyes fell on
Jordan and me with a sort of appeal, as though
she realized at last what she was doing, and as
though she had never all along intended doing anything at all.
But it was done now. It was too late. I
never loved him, she said, with perceptible reluctance. Not at Capiolani,

(36:52):
demanded Tom Suddenly, No. From the ball room beneath muffled
and suffering cords were drifting up on hot waves of air.
Not that day I carried you down from the punch
bowl to keep your shoes dry. There was a husky
tenderness in his tone. Daisy, please don't. Her voice was cold,

(37:19):
but the rancor had gone from it. She looked at Gatsby. There, Jane,
she said, But her hand, as she tried to light
a cigarette, was trembling. Suddenly she threw the cigarette and
the burning match on the carpet. Oh you want too much,
she cried to Gatsby. I love you now. Isn't that enough?
I can't help what's past. She began to sob helplessly.

(37:44):
I did love him once, but I loved you too.
Gatsby's eyes opened and closed. You loved me too, he repeated.
Even that's a lie, said Tom savagely. She did know
you were alive. Why there are things between Daisy and
me that you'll never know, things that neither of us

(38:06):
can ever forget. The words seemed to bite physically into Gatsby.
I want to speak to Daisy alone, he insisted. She's
all excited now, even alone. I can't say I never
loved Tom, she admitted, in a pitiful voice. It wouldn't
be true, of course, it wouldn't, agreed Tom. She turned

(38:30):
to her husband. As if it mattered to you, she said,
of course it matters. I'm going to take better care
of you from now on. You don't understand, said Gatsby,
with a touch of panic. You're not going to take
care of her any more. I'm not. Tom opened his
eyes wide and laughed. He could afford to control himself. Now,

(38:53):
why's that, Daisy's leaving you? Nonsense I am, though, she said,
with a visible effort, She's not leaving me. Tom's words
suddenly leaned down over Gatsby. Certainly not for a common
swindler who'd have to steal the ring he put on

(39:14):
her finger. Oh I won't stand this, cried Daisy. Oh please,
let's get out. Who are you anyhow? Broke out Tom.
You're one of that bunch that hangs around with Meyer
Volfsheim that much. I happened to know. I've made a
little investigation into your affairs, and I'll carry it further tomorrow.

(39:35):
You cann't suit yourself about that old sport, said Gatsby steadily.
I found out what your drug stores were. He turned
to us and spoke rapidly. He and this Wolfsheim bought
up a lot of side street drug stores here and
in Chicago and sold grain alcohol over the counter. That's
one of his little stunts. I picked him for our

(39:56):
bootlegger the first time I saw him, and I wasn't
far wrong. What about it, said Gatsby politely. I guess
your friend Walter Chase wasn't too proud to come in
on it. And you left him in the lurch, didn't you.
You let him go to jail for a month over
in New Jersey. God, you ought to hear Walter on
the subject of you. He came to us dead broke.

(40:19):
He was very glad to pick up some money, old sport.
Don't you call me old sport, cried Tom. Gatsby said nothing.
Walter could have you up on the betting laws too,
But volsheim scared him into shutting his mouth. That unfamiliar
yet recognizable look was back again in Gatsby's face. That

(40:42):
drug store business was just small change, continued Tom, slowly.
But you've got something on now that Walter's afraid to
tell me about. I glanced at Daisy, who was staring
terrified between Gatsby and her husband, and at Jordan, who
had begun to balance an invisible but absorbing object on
the tip of her chin. Then I turned back to Gatsby,

(41:06):
and was startled at his expression. He looked, and this
is said in all contempt for the babbled slander of
his garden, as if he had killed a man. For
a moment, the set of his face could be described
in just that fantastic way. It passed, and he began
to talk excitedly to Daisy, denying everything, defending his name

(41:29):
against accusations that had not been made. But with every
word she was drawing further and further into herself. So
he gave that up, and only the dead dream fought
on as the afternoon slipped away, trying to touch what
was no longer tangible, struggling unhappily, undespairingly toward that lost

(41:49):
voice across the room. The voice begged again to go please, Tom,
I can't stand this any more. Her frightened eyes told
that whatever intentions, whatever courage she had had, were definitely gone.
You two start on home, Daisy, said Tom in mister

(42:12):
Gatsby's car. She looked at Tom alarmed now, but he insisted,
with magnanimous scorn, go on. He won't annoy you. I
think he realizes that his presumptuous little flirtation is over
They were gone without a word, snapped out, made accidental, isolated,

(42:35):
like ghosts, even from our pity. After a moment, Tom
got up and began wrapping the unopened bottle of whiskey
in the towel. Want any of this stuff, Jordan? Nick?
I didn't answer Nick. He asked again, what want any No?

(42:57):
I just remembered that to day is my birth. I
was thirty before me stretched the portentous, menacing road of
a new decade. It was seven o'clock when we got
into the coop with him and started for a long island.
Tom talked incessantly, exulting and laughing, but his voice was

(43:20):
as remote from Jordan and me as the foreign clamor
on the sidewalk or the tumult of the elevated overhead.
Human sympathy has its limits, and we were content to
let all their tragic arguments fade with the city lights
behind thirty, the promise of a decade of loneliness, a
thinning list of single men to know, a thinning briefcase

(43:43):
of enthusiasm, thinning hair. But there was Jordan beside me, who,
unlike Daisy, was too wise ever to carry well forgotten
dreams from age to age. As we passed over the
dark bridge, her wan face fell lazily against my coat's shoulder,
and the formidable stroke of thirty died away with the

(44:06):
reassuring pressure of her hand. So we drove on toward
death through the cooling twilight. The young Greek Michaelis, who
ran the coffee joint beside the ash heaps, was the
principal witness at the inquest. He had slept through the
heat until after five, when he strolled over to the

(44:29):
garage and found George Wilson sick in his office, really sick,
pale as his own, pale hair, and shaking all over.
Michaelis advised him to go to bed, but Wilson refused,
saying that he'd miss a lot of business if he did.
While his neighbor was trying to persuade him, a violent
racket broke out overhead. I've got my wife locked up

(44:53):
in there, explained Wilson, calmly. She's going to stay there
till the day after tomorrow, and then we're going to
move away. Michaelis was astonished. They had been neighbors for
four years, and Wilson had never seemed faintly capable of
such a statement. Generally, he was one of these worn
out men. When he wasn't working, he sat on a

(45:15):
chair in the driveway and stared at the people and
the cars that passed along the road. When anyone spoke
to him, he invariably laughed in an agreeable, colorless way.
He was his wife's man, and not his own, so
naturally Michaelis tried to find out what had happened, but
Wilson wouldn't say a word. Instead, he began to throw curious,

(45:37):
suspicious glances at his visitor and ask him what he'd
been doing at certain times on certain days. Just as
the latter was getting uneasy, some workmen came past the door,
bound for his restaurant, and Michaelis took the opportunity to
get away, intending to come back later. But he didn't.

(45:57):
He supposed he forgot to, that's all. When he came
outside again a little after seven, he was reminded of
the conversation because he heard missus Wilson's voice loud and
scolding downstairs in the garage. Beat me, he heard her cry,
throw me down and beat me, you dirty little coward.

(46:19):
A moment later, she rushed out into the dusk waving
her hands and shouting before he could move from his door.
The business was over. The death car, as the newspapers
called it, didn't stop. It came out of the gathering darkness,
wavered tragically for a moment, and then disappeared around the

(46:42):
next bend. Michaelis wasn't even sure of its color. He
told the first policeman that it was light green. The
other car, the one going toward New York, came to
rest a hundred yards beyond, and its driver hurried back
to where Myrtle Wilson, her life violently extinguished, knelt in
the road and mingled her thick dark blood with the dust.

(47:08):
Michaelis and this man reached her first, But when they
had torn open her shirt waist, still damp with perspiration,
they saw that her left breast was swinging loose like
a flap, and there was no need to listen for
the heart beneath. The mouth was wide open and ripped
at the corners, as though she had choked a little

(47:29):
in giving up the tremendous vitality she had stored so long.
We saw the three or four automobiles and the crowd
when we were still some distance away, wreck said Tom,
that's good, Wilson'll have a little business. At last, He
slowed down, but still without any intention of stopping, until

(47:52):
as we came nearer the hushed intent faces of the
people at the garage door made him automatically put on
the brakes. We'll take a look, he said, doubtfully, just
a look. I became aware now of a hollow, wailing
sound which issued incessantly from the garage, a sound which,

(48:14):
as we got out of the coop and walked toward
the door, resolved itself into the words, oh my God,
uttered over and over in a gasping moan. There's some
bad trouble here, said Tom excitedly. He reached up on
tiptoes and peered over a circle of heads into the garage,

(48:35):
which was lit only by a yellow light and a
swinging wire basket overhead. Then he made a harsh sound
in his throat, and with a violent thrusting movement of
his powerful arms, pushed his way through the circle, closed
up again with a running murmur of expostulation. It was
a minute before I could see anything at all. Then

(48:56):
new arrivals deranged the line, and Jordan and I were
pushed so suddenly inside Myrtle. Wilson's body, wrapped in a blanket,
and then in another blanket, as though she suffered from
a chill in the hot night, lay on a work
table by the wall, and Tom, with his back to us,

(49:16):
was bending over it motionless. Next to him stood a
motorcycle policeman taking down names with much sweat and correction
in a little book. At first I couldn't find the
source of the high, groaning words that echoed clamorously through
the bare garage. Then I saw Wilson standing on the
raised threshold of his office, swaying back and forth and

(49:41):
holding to the door posts with both hands. Some man
was talking to him in a low voice and attempting
from time to time to lay a hand on his shoulder,
but Wilson neither heard nor saw. His eyes would drop
slowly from the swinging light to the laden table by
the wall, and then jerked back to the light again,

(50:04):
and he gave out incessantly his high, horrible call, Oh
my God, Oh my God, oh God, oh my God.
Presently Tom lifted his head with a jerk, and, after
staring around the garage with glazed eyes, addressed a mumbled,

(50:25):
incoherent remark to the policeman. M A why. The policeman
was saying, Oh, no, R corrected the man. M A
y r. Oh listen to me, muttered Tom fiercely. R

(50:48):
said the policeman. Oh g G. He looked up as
Tom's broad hand fell sharply on his shoulder. What you want, fella,
what happened? That's what I want to know. Otto hit her? Instantly, killed,

(51:09):
instantly killed, repeated Tom, staring. She ran out in a road,
son of a bitch. Didn't even stop a car. There
was two cars, said Michaelis one comin, one goin? See
going where asked the policeman. Keenly, one going each way? Well?
She His hand rose toward the blankets, but stopped half

(51:31):
way and fell to his side. She ran out there
an the one comin from New York knock right in her.
Goin thirty or forty miles an hour. What's the name
of this place here, demanded the officer hasn't got any name.
A pale, well dressed negro stepped near. It was a

(51:52):
yellow car, he said, big yellow car. New see the accident,
asked the policeman. No. But the car passed me down
the road, going faster than forty going fifty sixty. Come here,
and let's have your name. Look out now, I want
to get his name. Some words of this conversation must

(52:13):
have reached Wilson, swaying in the office door, for suddenly
a new theme found voice among his gasping cries. You
don't have to tell me what kind of car it was.
I know what kind of car it was. Watching Tom,
I saw the wad of muscle back of his shoulder
tighten under his coat. He walked quickly over to Wilson, and,

(52:36):
standing in front of him, seized him firmly by the
upper arms. You've got to pull yourself together, he said,
with soothing gruffness. Wilson's eyes fell upon Tom. He started
up on his tiptoes, and then would have collapsed to
his knees had not Tom held him upright. Listen, said Tom,

(52:56):
shaking him a little. I just got here a minute
ago from New York. I was bringing you that coop
we've been talking about. That yellow car I was driving
this afternoon wasn't mine, do you hear? I haven't seen
it all afternoon. Only the Negro and I were near
enough to hear what he said. But the policeman caught
something in the tone and looked over with truculent eyes.

(53:20):
What's all that? He demanded, I'm a friend of his.
Tom turned his head, but kept his hands firm on
Wilson's body. He says he knows the car that did it.
It was a yellow car. Some dim impulse moved the
policeman to look suspiciously at Tom. And what color's your car?

(53:42):
It's a blue car, a coop. We've come straight from
New York, I said. Some one who had been driving
a little behind us confirmed this, and the policeman turned away. Now,
if you'll let me have that name again? Correct. Picking
up Wilson like a doll, Tom carried him into the office,

(54:03):
set him down in a chair, and came back. If
somebody'll come here and sit with him, he snapped authoritatively.
He watched while the two men standing closest glanced at
each other and went unwillingly into the room. Then Tom
shut the door on them and came down the single step,
his eyes avoiding the table. As he passed close to me,

(54:26):
he whispered, let's get out, self consciously, with his authoritative
arms breaking the way, we pushed through the still gathering
crowd passing a hurried doctor case in hand, who had
been sent for in wild Hope half an hour ago.
Tom drove slowly until we were beyond the bend. Then

(54:49):
his foot came down hard, and the coop raced along
through the night. In a little while, I heard a low,
husky sob and saw that the tears were overflowing down
his face. The god damned coward, he whimpered. He didn't
even stop his car. The Buchanan's house floated suddenly toward

(55:11):
us through the dark, rustling trees. Tom stopped beside the
porch and looked up at the second floor, where two
windows bloomed with light among the vines. Daisy's home, he said.
As we got out of the car, he glanced at
me and frowned slightly. I ought to have dropped you
in West egg Nick. There's nothing we can do to night.

(55:36):
A change had come over him, and he spoke gravely
and with decision. As we walked across the moonlight gravel
to the porch. He disposed of the situation in a
few brisk phrases. I'll telephone for a taxi to take
you home, and while you're waiting, you and Jordan better
go in the kitchen and have them get you some
supper if you want any. He opened the door. Come in,

(56:01):
No thanks, but I'd be glad if you'd order me
the taxi. I'll wait outside. Jordan put her hand on
my arm. Won't you come in? Nick? No thanks. I
was feeling a little sick, and I wanted to be alone.
But Jordan lingered for a moment. More. It's only half

(56:23):
past nine, she said, I'd be damned if I'd go in.
I'd had enough of all of them for one day,
and suddenly that included Jordan too. She must have seen
something of this in my expression, for she turned abruptly
away and ran up the porch steps into the house.
I sat down for a few minutes with my head

(56:43):
in my hands, until I heard the phone taken up
inside and the butler's voice calling a taxi. Then I
walked slowly down the drive away from the house, intending
to wait by the gate. I hadn't gone twenty yards
when I heard my and Gatsby stepped from between two
bushes into the path. I must have felt pretty weird

(57:06):
by that time, because I could think of nothing except
the luminosity of his pink suit. Under the moon. What
are you doing, I inquired, just standing here old Sport.
Somehow that seemed a despicable occupation. For all I knew
he was going to rob the house in a moment,

(57:28):
I wouldn't have been surprised to see sinister faces, the
faces of Wolsheim's people behind him in the dark shrubbery.
Did you see any trouble on the road, he asked
after a minute, Yes, he hesitated. Was she killed? Yes?

(57:51):
I thought so, I told Daisy. I thought so. It's
better that the shock should come all at once. She
stood it pretty well. He spoke, as if Daisy's reaction
was the only thing that mattered. I got to West
Egg by a side road. He went on and left
the car in my garage. I don't think anybody saw us,
but of course I can't be sure. I disliked him

(58:15):
so much by this time that I didn't find it
necessary to tell him he was wrong. Who was the woman?
He inquired. Her name was Wilson. Her husband owns the garage.
How the devil did it happen? Well? I tried to
swing the wheel, he broke off, and suddenly I guessed

(58:37):
at the truth. Was Daisy driving yes, he said, after
a moment, But of course I'll say I was. You see,
when we left New York, she was very nervous, and
she thought it would steady her to drive. And this
woman rushed out at us just as we were passing
a car coming the other way. It all happened in

(58:59):
a minute, but it seemed to me that she wanted
to speak to us, thought we were somebody she knew well.
First Daisy turned away from the woman toward the other car,
and then she lost her nerve and turned back. The
second my hand reached the wheel, I felt the shock.
It must have killed her instantly. It ripped her open.

(59:23):
Don't tell me old sport, he winced. Anyhow, Daisy stepped
on it. I tried to make her stop, but she couldn't,
so I pulled on the emergency brake. Then she fell
over into my lap and I drove on. She'll be
all right tomorrow, he said. Presently. I'm just going to
wait here and see if he tries to bother her

(59:43):
about that unpleasantness this afternoon. She's locked herself into her room,
and if he tries any brutality, she's going to turn
the light out and on again. He won't touch her.
I said, he's not thinking about her. I don't trust him,
old sport. How long you going to wait all night?

(01:00:06):
If necessary? Anyhow, till they all go to bed. A
new point of view occurred to me. Suppose Tom found
out that Daisy had been driving. He might think he
saw a connection in it. He might think anything. I
looked at the house. There were two or three bright
windows downstairs, and the pink glow from Daisy's room on

(01:00:29):
the second floor. You wait here, I said, I'll see
if there's any sign of a commotion. I walked back
along the border of the lawn, traversed the gravel softly,
and tiptoed up the veranda steps. The drawing room curtains
were open, and I saw that the room was empty.
Crossing the porch where we had dined that June night,

(01:00:51):
three months before, I came to a small rectangle of light,
which I guessed was the pantry window. The blind was drawn,
but I found a rift at the sill. Daisy and
Tom were sitting opposite each other at the kitchen table,
with a plate of cold fried chicken between them and
two bottles of ale. He was talking intently across the

(01:01:14):
table at her, and in his earnestness, his hand had
fallen upon and covered her own. Once in a while.
She looked up at him and nodded in agreement. They
weren't happy, and neither of them had touched the chicken
or the ale, And yet they weren't unhappy either. There

(01:01:35):
was an unmistakable air of natural intimacy about the picture,
and anybody would have said that they were conspiring together.
As I tiptoed from the porch, I heard my taxi
feeling its way along the dark road toward the house.
Gatsby was waiting where I had left him in the drive.
Is it all quiet up there? He asked anxiously, Yes,

(01:01:59):
it's all quiet it, I hesitated. You'd better come home
and get some sleep. He shook his head. I want
to wait here till Daisy goes to bed. Good night,
old Sport. He put his hands in his coat pockets
and turned back eagerly to his scrutiny of the house.
As though my presence marred the sacredness of the vigil,

(01:02:23):
So I walked away and left him standing there in
the moonlight, watching over nothing. End of Chapter seven