Once he nearly toppled down aflight of stai

u<a title="ntil much later" href="https://pims.edu/?s=%eb%8f%84%ea%b3%a1%ed%82%a4%ec%8a%a4%eb%b0%a9%e2%98%82pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7%ec%bb%b4%e2%99%93%ec%82%ac%eb%8b%b9%eb%a0%88%ea%b9%85%ec%8a%a4%eb%a3%b8%e2%99%a5%ec%95%88%ec%96%91%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc  " target="_blank">ntil much later, the</a><br>y absorbed me infinitely lessthan my personal affairs.Most of the time I worked. In the early morning the sun threw my shadowwestward as I hurried down the white chasms of lower New York to theProbity Trust. I knew the other clerks and young bond-salesmen by theirfirst names and lunched with them in dark crowded restaurants onlittle pig sausages and mashed potatoes and coffee. I <br><a title="even had a sho" href="https://pims.edu/?s=%ec%9e%a5%ec%95%88%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc%e2%98%85www.pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7com%e2%98%82%ec%8b%a0%ec%82%ac%eb%a0%88%ea%b9%85%ec%8a%a4%eb%a3%b8%e2%99%93%ea%b0%95%ed%99%94%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc  " target="_blank">even had a short</a>affair with a girl who lived in Jersey City and worked in theaccounting department, but her brother began throwing mean looks in mydirection so when she went on her vacation in July I let it blowquietly away.I took dinner usually at the Yale Club--for some reason it was thegloomiest event of my day--and then I went upstairs to the library andstudied investments and securities for a c<a title="onscientious hour.There " href="https://thebridge.in/search?search=%eb%b6%80%ec%b2%9c%ed%82%a4%ec%8a%a4%eb%b0%a9%e2%98%82www.pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7%ec%bb%b4%e2%99%93%ec%84%b1%ec%88%98%ec%95%88%eb%a7%88%e2%86%97%eb%b6%80%ec%82%b0%ea%b1%b4%eb%a7%88  " target="_blank">onscientious hou</a>r.There were generally a few rioters around but they never came into thelibrary so it was a good place to work. After that, if the night wasmellow I strolled down Madison Avenue past the old Murray Hill Hoteland over Thirty-third Street to the Pennsylvania Station.I began to like New York, the racy, adventurous feel of it at nightand the satisfaction that the constant flicker of men <br><a title="and women andma" href="https://www.indifferentlanguages.com/words/%ec%9e%a0%ec%8b%a4%eb%a0%88%ea%b9%85%ec%8a%a4%eb%a3%b8+www.pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7com%e2%99%93%ec%88%98%ec%84%9c%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc%e2%86%97%ec%84%9c%ec%b4%88%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc  " target="_blank">and women andmac</a>hines gives to the restless eye. I liked to walk up Fifth Avenue andpick out romantic women from the crowd and imagine that in a fewminutes I was going to enter into their lives, and no one would everknow or disapprove. Sometimes, in my mind, I followed them to theirapartments on the corners of hidden streets, and they turned and smiledback at me before they faded through a door into<a title=" warm darkness" href="https://www.indifferentlanguages.com/words/%ec%98%a4%ea%b8%88%ec%85%94%ec%b8%a0%eb%a3%b8%e2%98%82www.pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7com%e2%9c%8f%eb%b6%80%ec%b2%9c%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc%e2%98%80%ec%98%81%eb%93%b1%ed%8f%ac%ea%b1%b4%eb%a7%88  " target="_blank"> warm darkness. A</a>t theenchanted metropolitan twilight I felt a haunting loneliness sometimes,and felt it in others--poor young clerks who loitered in front of windowswaiting until it was time for a solitary restaurant dinner--young clerksin the dusk, wasting the most poignant moments of night and life.Again at eight o'clock, when the dark lanes of the Forties were fivedeep with throbbing taxi cabs, <a title="bound for the theatr" href="https://pims.edu/?s=%ea%b0%95%eb%82%a8%ed%82%a4%ec%8a%a4%eb%b0%a9%e2%9d%87pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7%ec%bb%b4%e2%9d%a4%ec%8b%a0%ec%82%ac%ec%85%94%ec%b8%a0%eb%a3%b8%e2%9d%a4%ea%b8%88%ec%a0%95%ea%b1%b4%eb%a7%88  " target="_blank">bound for the theatre di</a>strict, I felt asinking in my heart. Forms leaned together in the taxis as they waited,and voices sang, and there was laughter from unheard jokes, and lightedcigarettes outlined unintelligible gestures inside. Imagining thatI, too, was hurrying toward gayety and sharing their intimateexcitement, I wished them well.For a while I lost sight of Jordan Baker, and then in midsumme<a title="r I foundher a" href="https://www.indifferentlanguages.com/words/%ec%95%88%ec%96%91%ed%82%a4%ec%8a%a4%eb%b0%a9+www.pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7%ec%bb%b4%e2%99%8f%ec%84%b1%eb%82%a8%eb%a0%88%ea%b9%85%ec%8a%a4%eb%a3%b8+%ec%84%b1%eb%8f%99%ea%b1%b4%eb%a7%88  " target="_blank">r I foundher again. At f</a><br>irst I was flattered to go places with her because shewas a golf champion and every one knew her name. Then it wassomething more. I wasn't actually in love, but I felt a sort oftender curiosity. The bored haughty face that she turned to theworld concealed something--most affectations conceal somethingeventually, even though they don't in the beginning--and one day I foundwhat<a title=" it was. When we we" href="https://thebridge.in/search?search=%eb%8f%99%ec%9e%91%ed%9c%b4%ea%b2%8c%ed%85%94%e2%99%93www.pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7%ec%bb%b4%e2%98%85%ec%98%a4%ea%b8%88%ec%a3%bc%ec%a0%90%e2%9d%87%ec%9c%a0%ec%84%b1%ec%86%8c%ed%94%84%ed%8a%b8%eb%a3%b8  " target="_blank"> it was. When we were </a>on a house-party together up in Warwick, sheleft a borrowed car out in the rain with the top down, and then liedabout it--and suddenly I remembered the story about her that had eludedme that night at Daisy's. At her first big golf tournament there was arow that nearly reached the newspapers--a suggestion that she had movedher ball from a bad lie in the semi-final round. The thi<a title="ng approachedthe p" href="https://www.indifferentlanguages.com/words/%ea%b1%b4%eb%8c%80%ec%9e%85%ea%b5%ac%ec%95%88%eb%a7%88%e2%97%80pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7com%e2%99%93%ea%b0%95%eb%82%a8%ed%9c%b4%ea%b2%8c%ed%85%94+%ea%b0%95%ed%99%94%ea%b1%b4%eb%a7%88  " target="_blank">ng approachedthe p</a><br>roportions of a scandal--then died away. A caddy retracted hisstatement and the only other witness admitted that he might have beenmistaken. The incident and the name had remained together in my mind.Jordan Baker instinctively avoided clever, shrewd men, and now I sawthat this was because she felt safer on a plane where any divergencefrom a code would be thought impossible. She was<a title=" incurably di" href="https://pims.edu/?s=%eb%8f%99%ec%9e%91%ec%a3%bc%ec%a0%90%e2%98%85pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7%ec%bb%b4%e2%98%80%ec%9a%a9%ec%82%b0%ec%a3%bc%ec%a0%90%e2%9c%8f%ec%84%9c%eb%8c%80%eb%ac%b8%ea%b1%b4%eb%a7%88  " target="_blank"> incurably dish</a>onest.She wasn't able to endure being at a disadvantage, and given thisunwillingness, I suppose she had begun dealing in subterfuges when shewas very young in order to keep that cool, insolent smile turned to theworld and yet satisfy the demands of her hard jaunty body.It made no difference to me. Dishonesty in a woman is a thing you neverblame deeply--I was casually sorry, and then I<br><a title=" forgot. It was on t" href="https://thebridge.in/search?search=%ea%b1%b4%eb%8c%80%ec%9e%85%ea%b5%ac%ec%a3%bc%ec%a0%90%e2%97%86pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7com+%ec%84%9c%ec%b4%88%ed%82%a4%ec%8a%a4%eb%b0%a9%e2%9d%a4%ec%9d%b8%ec%b2%9c%ec%86%8c%ed%94%84%ed%8a%b8%eb%a3%b8  " target="_blank"> forgot. It w</a>as on thatsame house party that we had a curious conversation about driving acar. It started because she passed so close to some workmen that ourfender flicked a button on one man's coat."You're a rotten driver," I protested. "Either you ought to be morecareful or you oughtn't to drive at all.""I am careful.""No, you're not.""Well, other people are," she said lightly."What's that got to<a title=" do with it?""They'" href="https://thebridge.in/search?search=%ec%95%95%ea%b5%ac%ec%a0%95%ec%85%94%ec%b8%a0%eb%a3%b8+www.pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7com%e2%9d%84%ec%88%98%ec%9b%90%ec%95%88%eb%a7%88%e2%9d%87%ea%b3%84%ec%96%91%ea%b1%b4%eb%a7%88  " target="_blank"> do with it?""They'll </a>keep out of my way," she insisted. "It takes two to make anaccident.""Suppose you met somebody just as careless as yourself.""I hope I never will," she answered. "I hate careless people. That's whyI like you."Her grey, sun-strained eyes stared straight ahead, but she haddeliberately shifted our relations, and for a moment I thought I lovedher. But I am slow-thinking and full of<a title=" interior