Page 96 - The Great Gatsby
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86                The Great Gatsby                                             The funeral                87



                                                                            There was one thing to be done before I left. It  was difficult
                                                                          and unpleasant, but I wanted to !cave things tidy, and not just
                                                                         hope that the sea would carry my  rubbish away. I saw Jordan
                                                                         Baker,  and talked over  and around what had happened to us
                                                                         togcthcr, and  what happened afterwards to me.
                                                                            She  lay  perfectly  still,  listening,  in  a  big  chair.  She  was
                                                                         dressed to play  golf, and her hair  was  thc color of  an autumn
                                                                         leaf. When l had finished, she told me  without comment that
                                                                         she  was  engaged to another  man.  I  doubted  thar,  although
                                                                         there were severa] she could have married whenever she wanted.
                                                                         For just a minute I wondered if I was making a mistake, then I
                                                                         thought it ali over again quickly, and got up to say goodbye.
                                                                           'You did turn me down, you know,' she said suddenl y.  'On
                                                                         the telephone. l don't care at ali for you now, but it was a new
                                                                         experience for me, and I felt a litde dazed for a while.'
                                                                            We shook hands.
                                                                           She  went on, 'Oh, and do you remember a conversation we
                                                                         had once about driving a car?  You said a bad  driver  was only
                                                                         safe until she met anorher bad driver. Well, I met another bad
                                                                         driver, didn't I? It  was carelcss of me to makc such a  wrong
                                                                         gucss. l thought you were rather an honesr person. l rhought
                                                                         you were secretly  proud of that.'
                                                                           'l'm thirty,' I replied.  'l'm five years too old to lie to myself
                                                                         and call it honesty.'
                                                                           She  didn't  answer.  Angry,  and half  in  lovc  wirh  her,  and
                                                                         enormously sorry, I turned away.

                                                                         Onc aftcrnoon late in Octobcr, I saw Tom  Buchanan, walking
                                                                         ahead  of  me  along  Fifth  Avenue.  I  slowed  up  to  avoid
                                                                         overtaking him, but he saw  me and walked back,  holding out
                  1 could only remember, without anger, that Daisy hadn't senl
                              a message ora flower.                      his hand.
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