I was scared， I can tell you； I’d never seen a girllike that before.
“Here， dearis.” She groped around in a wastebasketshe had with her on the bed and pulled out the string of pearls. “Take ‘em downstairs and give‘em back to whoever they belong to. Tell ‘em allDaisy’s change’ her mine. Say ‘Daisy’s change’ hermine！”
She began to cry—she cried and cried. I rushedout and found her mother’s maid and we locked thedoor and got her into a cold bath. She wouldn’t letgo of the letter. She took it into the tub with herand squeezed it up into a wet ball， and only let meleave it in the soap dish when she saw that it wascoming to pieces like snow.
But she didn’t say another word. We gave herspirits of ammonia and put ice on her forehead andhooked her back into her dress and half an hourlater when we walked out of the room the pearlswere around her neck and the incident was over.
Next day at five o’clock she married Tom Buchananwithout so much as a shiver and started off on three months’ trip to the South Seas.
I saw them in Santa Barbara when they came backand I thought I’d never seen a girl so mad abouther husband. If he left the room for a minute she’dlook around uneasily and say “Where’s Tom gone？” and wear the most abstracted expression until shesaw him coming in the door. She used to sit on thesand with his head in her lap by the hour rubbingher fingers over his eyes and looking at him withunfathomable delight. It was touching to see themtogether—it made you laugh in a hushed， fascinatedway. That was in August. A week after I left SantaBarbara Tom ran into a wagon on the Ventura roadone night and ripped a front wheel off his car. Thegirl who was with him got into the pa-pers toobecause her arm was broken—she was one of thechambermaids in the Santa Barbara Hotel.
The next April Daisy had her little girl and theywent to France for a year. I saw them one springin Cannes and later in Deauville and then theycame back to Chicago to settle down. Daisy waspopular in Chicago， as you know. They moved
with a fast crowd， all of them young and rich andwild， but she came out with an absolutely perfectreputation. Perhaps because she doesn’t drink. It’s agreat advantage not to drink among hard-drinkingpeople. You can hold your tongue and， moreover，you can time any little irregularity of your own sothat everybody else is so blind that they don’t see orcare. Perhaps Daisy never went in for amour at all—and yet there’s something in that voice of hers….
Well， about six weeks ago， she heard the nameGatsby for the first time in years. It was whenI asked you—do you remember？ —if you knew Gatsby in West Egg. After you had gone home shecame into my room and woke me up， and said “WhatGatsby？” and when I described him—I was halfasleep—she said in the strangest voice that it mustbe the man she used to know. It wasn’t until thenthat I connected this Gatsby with the officer in herwhite car.
When Jordan Baker had finished telling all this wehad left the Plaza for half an hour and were drivingin a Victoria through Central Park. The sun hadgone down behind the tall apartments of the moviestars in the West Fifties and the clear voices of girls，already gathered like crickets on the grass， rosethrough the hot twilight：
“I’m the Sheik of Araby，
Your love belongs to me.
At night when you’re are asleep，
Into your tent I’ll creep—”
“It was a strange coincidence，” I said.
“But it wasn’t a coincidence at all.”
“Why not？”
“Gatsby bought that house so that Daisy wouldbe just across the bay.”
Then it had not been merely the stars to whichhe had aspired on that June night. He came aliveto me， delivered suddenly from the womb of hispurposeless splendor.
“He wants to know—” continued Jordan “—you’ll invite Daisy to your house some afternoonand then let him come over.”
The modesty of the demand shook me. He had
waited five years and bought a mansion where hedispensed starlight to casual moths so that he could“come over” some afternoon to a stranger’s garden.
“Did I have to know all this before he could asksuch a little thing？”
“He’s afraid. He’s waited so long. He thought youmight be offended. You see he’s a regular toughunderneath it all.”
Something worried me.
“Why didn’t he ask you to arrange a meeting？”
“He wants her to see his house，” she explained.
“And your house is right next door.”
“Oh！”
“I think he half expected her to wander into oneof his parties， some night，” went on Jordan， “but shenever did. Then he began asking people casually ifthey knew her， and I was the first one he found. Itwas that night he sent for me at his dance， and youshould have heard the elaborate way he worked upto it. Of course， I immediately suggested a luncheonin New York—and I thought he’d go mad：
“I don’t want to do anything out of the way！” hekept saying. “I want to see her right next door.”
“When I said you were a particular friend ofTom’s he started to abandon the whole idea. Hedoesn’t know very much about Tom， though he says he’s read a Chicago paper for years just on thechance of catching a glimpse of Daisy’s name.”
It was dark now， and as we dipped under a little bridge I put my arm around Jordan’s goldenshoulder and drew her toward me and asked herto dinner. Suddenly I wasn’t thinking of Daisy andGatsby any more but of this clean， hard， limitedperson who dealt in universal skepticism and wholeaned back jauntily just within the circle of myarm. A phrase began to beat in my ears with a sortof heady excitement： “There are only the pursued，the pursuing， the busy and the tired.”
“And Daisy ought to have something in her life，” murmured Jordan to me.
“Does she want to see Gatsby？”
“She’s not to know about it. Gatsby doesn’t wanther to know. You’re just supposed to invite her totea.”
We passed a barrier of dark trees， and then thefacade of Fifty-ninth Street， a block of delicatepale light， beamed down into the park. UnlikeGatsby and Tom Buchanan I had no girl whose disembodied face floated along the dark cornicesand blinding signs and so I drew up the girl besideme， tightening my arms. Her wan， scornful mouthsmiled and so I drew her up again， closer， this timeto my faceas afraid for a moment that my house was on fire.
