of orchids and pleasant, cheerful snobbery and orchestras [%y3%]which set the rhythm of the year, summing up the sadness and suggestiveness [%04%] of life in new tunes. All
night the saxophones wailed the hopeless comment of the Beale [%04%] Street Blues while a hundred pairs of golden and silver slippers shuffled the shining dust. At the gray tea hour
there were always rooms that throbbed incessantly with this low, sweet fever, [%y7%] while fresh faces drifted here and there like rose petals blown by the sad horns around the
floor. Through this twilight [%04%] universe Daisy began to move again with the season; suddenly she was again keeping half a dozen dates a day with half [%y3%] a
dozen men, and drowsing asleep at dawn with the beads and chiffon of an evening dress tangled among dying orchids on the floor beside her [%04%] bed. And all the time something within
her was crying for a decision. She wanted her life [%04%] shaped now, immediately [%04%] â€" and the [%04%] decision must be made by some forceâ€" of love, of hi, of unquestionable practicality
â€" that was close at hand. That force took shape in the middle of spring with the arrival of Tom Buchanan. There was [%y5%] a [%y9%] wholesome bulkiness [%04%] about his person and [%y7%] his
position, and Daisy was flattered. Doubtless there was a certain struggle and a certain relief. The letter reached Gatsby while he was still at Oxford. [%y7%]
It was [%y7%] [%y5%] dawn now on Long Island and we went about opening the rest of the windows down- stairs, filling the house with gray-turning, gold-turning
light. The shadow of a tree fell abruptly across the [%04%] dew and [%y7%] ghostly birds began to [%y4%] sing among the blue leaves. There was a slow, pleasant movement in the [%04%] air, scarcely
a wind, [%04%] promising a cool, lovely day. “I don’t think she ever loved him. †Gatsby turned around from a window and looked at [%y4%] me challengingly. “You must remember, old sport, she was
very excited this afternoon. He told her those things in a way that frightened her â€" that made it look as if I was some kind of cheap sharper. And the result was she hardly knew [%y8%]
what she was saying.†He sat down gloomily. “Of course she might have loved him [%y7%] just for a minute, when they were first married â€"
and loved me more even then, [%04%] do you see?†Suddenly he came out with a curious remark. “In any case, †[%y5%] he said, “it [%y7%] was just personal. [%y7%] â€
What could [%y5%] you make of that, [%y7%] except to suspect some intensity in his conception of the affair that couldn’t be measured? He came back from France when Tom and Daisy were still on
their wedding trip, and made a miserable but irresistible journey to Louisville on the last of his army hi. he stayed there [%y6%] a week, [%04%] walking the streets where their footsteps
had clicked together through the November night and revisiting the out-of-the-way places to which they had driven in her white car. Just as [%y4%] Daisy’s house had always seemed to him 
more mysterious and hi than other houses, so his idea of the city itself, even though she was gone from it, was pervaded with a melancholy beauty. [%y6%] .
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