"Open another window," commanded Daisy, without

w<br><a title="ould gather in " href="https://thebridge.in/search?search=%ea%b1%b4%eb%8c%80%ec%9e%85%ea%b5%ac%ed%92%80%ec%82%b4%eb%a1%b1%e2%9d%84www.pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7%ec%bb%b4%e2%97%86%ec%88%98%ec%9b%90%ed%92%80%ec%82%b4%eb%a1%b1%e2%86%97%ec%98%b9%ec%a7%84%ec%86%8c%ed%94%84%ed%8a%b8%eb%a3%b8  " target="_blank">ould gather in the ol</a><br>d dim Union Station at six o'clock of aDecember evening with a few Chicago friends already caught up intotheir own holiday gayeties to bid them a hasty goodbye. I rememberthe fur coats of the girls returning from Miss This or That's and<br><a title="the chatter of frozen " href="https://www.indifferentlanguages.com/words/%ea%b1%b4%eb%8c%80%ec%9e%85%ea%b5%ac%ed%92%80%ec%82%b4%eb%a1%b1%e2%9d%84www.pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7%ec%bb%b4%e2%97%86%ec%88%98%ec%9b%90%ed%92%80%ec%82%b4%eb%a1%b1%e2%86%97%ec%98%b9%ec%a7%84%ec%86%8c%ed%94%84%ed%8a%b8%eb%a3%b8  " target="_blank">the chatter of frozen br</a>eath and the hands waving overhead aswe caught sight of old acquaintances and the matchings of invitations:"Are you going to the Ordways'? the Herseys'? the Schultzes'?"and the long green tickets clasped tight in our gloved hands.And<br><a title=" last the murky yellow" href="https://pims.edu/?s=%ec%98%a4%ea%b8%88%ed%82%a4%ec%8a%a4%eb%b0%a9%e2%98%80www.pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7com%e2%99%8f%ec%95%95%ea%b5%ac%ec%a0%95%eb%a0%88%ea%b9%85%ec%8a%a4%eb%a3%b8+%ec%9c%a0%ec%84%b1%ea%b1%b4%eb%a7%88  " target="_blank"> last the mur</a>ky yellow cars of the Chicago, Milwaukee and St. PaulRailroad looking cheerful as Christmas itself on the tracks besidethe gate.When we pulled out into the winter night and the real snow, our snow,began to stretch out beside us and twinkle agai<a title="nst the windows, and th" href="https://www.indifferentlanguages.com/words/%ec%82%ac%eb%8b%b9%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc%e2%9c%94www.pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7com%e2%98%85%ec%9e%a5%ec%95%88%ec%a3%bc%ec%a0%90+%ea%b0%95%ed%99%94%ea%b1%b4%eb%a7%88  " target="_blank">nst the wind</a>ows, and thedim lights of small Wisconsin stations moved by, a sharp wild bracecame suddenly into the air. We drew in deep breaths of it as we walkedback from dinner through the cold vestibules, unutterably aware of ouridentity with this country<a title=" for one strange hour " href="https://thebridge.in/search?search=%ea%b5%90%eb%8c%80%ec%a3%bc%ec%a0%90%e2%98%85pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7com%e2%98%85%ec%95%95%ea%b5%ac%ec%a0%95%ec%85%94%ec%b8%a0%eb%a3%b8%e2%9c%8f%ea%b0%95%eb%82%a8%ec%86%8c%ed%94%84%ed%8a%b8%eb%a3%b8  " target="_blank"> for one strange hou</a>r before we meltedindistinguishably into it again.That's my middle west--not the wheat or the prairies or the lost Swedetowns but the thrilling, returning trains of my youth and the streetlamps and sleigh bells in the frosty dark and the<a title=" shadows of hollywreaths" href="https://pims.edu/?s=%ec%9a%a9%ec%82%b0%ec%a3%bc%ec%a0%90%e2%9e%8awww.pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7com%e2%98%9c%eb%b6%84%eb%8b%b9%ed%9c%b4%ea%b2%8c%ed%85%94%e2%99%a5%ec%9c%a0%ec%84%b1%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc  " target="_blank"> shadows of hol</a>lywreaths thrown by lighted windows on the snow. I am part of that, alittle solemn with the feel of those long winters, a little complacentfrom growing up in the Carraway house in a city where dwellings arestill called through decades by a fa<br><a title="mily's name." href="https://pims.edu/?s=%ec%8b%a0%eb%a6%bc%ed%82%a4%ec%8a%a4%eb%b0%a9%e2%99%8bpukpuk1%eb%8b%b7%ec%bb%b4%e2%99%8b%ec%96%91%ec%9e%ac%ed%9c%b4%ea%b2%8c%ed%85%94%e2%98%82%ec%86%8c%ec%82%ac%ea%b1%b4%eb%a7%88  " target="_blank">mily's name. I see no</a><br>w that thishas been a story of the West, after all--Tom and Gatsby, Daisy andJordan and I, were all Westerners, and perhaps we possessed somedeficiency in common which made us subtly unadaptable to Eastern life.Even when the East excite<a title="d me most, ev" href="https://pims.edu/?s=%ec%88%98%ec%9b%90%ec%a3%bc%ec%a0%90%e2%9d%a4www.pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7%ec%bb%b4%e2%98%85%ec%88%98%ec%84%9c%eb%a0%88%ea%b9%85%ec%8a%a4%eb%a3%b8%e2%97%86%ec%95%88%ec%96%91%ec%86%8c%ed%94%84%ed%8a%b8%eb%a3%b8  " target="_blank">d me most, even when I w</a>as most keenly awareof its superiority to the bored, sprawling, swollen towns beyond theOhio, with their interminable inquisitions which spared only thechildren and the very old--even then it had always for me a quality ofdistortion.<a title=" West Egg esp" href="https://www.indifferentlanguages.com/words/%ea%b1%b4%eb%8c%80%ec%9e%85%ea%b5%ac%ed%92%80%ec%82%b4%eb%a1%b1%e2%9d%84www.pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7%ec%bb%b4%e2%97%86%ec%88%98%ec%9b%90%ed%92%80%ec%82%b4%eb%a1%b1%e2%86%97%ec%98%b9%ec%a7%84%ec%86%8c%ed%94%84%ed%8a%b8%eb%a3%b8  " target="_blank"> West Egg especially </a>still figures in my more fantasticdreams. I see it as a night scene by El Greco: a hundred houses, atonce conventional and grotesque, crouching under a sullen, overhangingsky and a lustreless moon. In the foreground four solemn men in d<a title="resssuits are wal" href="https://pims.edu/?s=%ec%84%b1%eb%82%a8%ed%9c%b4%ea%b2%8c%ed%85%94%e2%86%97www.pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7%ec%bb%b4%e2%97%80%eb%8f%99%ec%9e%91%ed%82%a4%ec%8a%a4%eb%b0%a9%e2%9c%94%ec%9d%98%ec%a0%95%eb%b6%80%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc  " target="_blank">resssuits are walking</a><br> along the sidewalk with a stretcher on which lies adrunken woman in a white evening dress. Her hand, which dangles overthe side, sparkles cold with jewels. Gravely the men turn in at ahouse--the wrong house. But no one knows the woman'<a title="s name, and no onecares." 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">s name, and n</a>o onecares.After Gatsby's death the East was haunted for me like that, distortedbeyond my eyes' power of correction. So when the blue smoke of brittleleaves was in the air and the wind blew the wet laundry stiff on theline I decided to come bac<a title="k home.There" href="https://pims.edu/?s=%ec%96%91%ec%9e%ac%ed%82%a4%ec%8a%a4%eb%b0%a9%e2%86%97pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7%ec%bb%b4%e2%9d%87%ec%9e%a5%ec%95%88%eb%a0%88%ea%b9%85%ec%8a%a4%eb%a3%b8+%eb%b6%80%ed%8f%89%ec%86%8c%ed%94%84%ed%8a%b8%eb%a3%b8  " target="_blank">k home.There </a><br>was one thing to be done before I left, an awkward, unpleasantthing that perhaps had better have been let alone. But I wanted toleave things in order and not just trust that obliging and indifferentsea to sweep my refuse away. I saw Jordan Bake<br><a title="r and talked " href="https://www.indifferentlanguages.com/words/%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">r and talked over </a>andaround what had happened to us together and what had happenedafterward to me, and she lay perfectly still listening in a bigchair.She was dressed to play golf and I remember thinking she looked like agood illustration, her chin raised a<br><a title=" little, jaunti" href="https://pims.edu/?s=%ec%98%a4%ea%b8%88%eb%a0%88%ea%b9%85%ec%8a%a4%eb%a3%b8%e2%9d%a4pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7com%e2%99%a5%eb%8f%99%ec%9e%91%ec%a3%bc%ec%a0%90%e2%9d%84%ed%99%94%ec%84%b1%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc  " target="_blank"> little, jauntily, her </a><br>hair thecolor of an autumn leaf, her face the same brown tint as the fingerlessglove on her knee. When I had finished she told me without comment thatshe was engaged to another man. I doubted that though there wereseveral she could ha<a title="ve married at a no" href="https://www.indifferentlanguages.com/words/%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">ve married at a nod</a><br> of her head but I pretended tobe surprised. For just a minute I wondered if I wasn't making amistake, then I thought it all over again quickly and got up to saygoodbye."Nevertheless you did throw me over," said Jordan suddenly. "You thre<a title="w meover on the telepho" href="https://pims.edu/?s=%ec%98%a4%ea%b8%88%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc%e2%9e%8awww.pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7com%e2%9e%8a%ea%b5%90%eb%8c%80%eb%a0%88%ea%b9%85%ec%8a%a4%eb%a3%b8%e2%9d%a4%eb%b6%80%ec%82%b0%ec%86%8c%ed%94%84%ed%8a%b8%eb%a3%b8  " target="_blank">w meover on the telephon</a><br>e. I don't give a damn about you now but it was anew experience for me and I felt a little dizzy for a while."We shook hands."Oh, and do you remember--" she added, "----a conversation we had onceabout driving a car?""Why--not exactly<a title=".""You said a bad" href="https://www.indifferentlanguages.com/words/%ec%95%88%ec%96%91%ec%a3%bc%ec%a0%90%e2%99%8bpukpuk1%eb%8b%b7com%e2%98%80%eb%8f%99%ec%9e%91%eb%a0%88%ea%b9%85%ec%8a%a4%eb%a3%b8%e2%98%80%eb%a7%88%ed%8f%ac%ec%86%8c%ed%94%84%ed%8a%b8%eb%a3%b8  " target="_blank">.""You said </a>a bad driver was only safe until she met another bad driver?Well, I met another bad driver, didn't I? I mean it was careless of meto make such a wrong guess. I thought you were rather an honest,straightforward person. I thought it was your secre<br><a title="t pride.""I'm" href="https://pims.edu/?s=%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">t pride.""I'</a>m thirty," I said. "I'm five years too old to lie to myself and callit honor."She didn't answer. Angry, and half in love with her, and tremendouslysorry, I turned away.One afternoon late in October I saw Tom Buchanan. He was walking aheadof me a<a title="long Fifth Avenue i" href="https://thebridge.in/search?search=%ec%82%ac%eb%8b%b9%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc%e2%98%9cpukpuk1%eb%8b%b7%ec%bb%b4%e2%97%80%ec%98%a4%ea%b8%88%ed%92%80%ec%82%b4%eb%a1%b1%e2%9d%84%ec%9d%98%ec%99%95%ec%86%8c%ed%94%84%ed%8a%b8%eb%a3%b8  " target="_blank">long Fifth Avenue in </a>his alert, aggressive way, his hands out alittle from his body as if to fight off interference, his head movingsharply here and there, adapting itself to his restless eyes. Just as Islowed up to avoid overtaking him he stopped and began<a title=" frowning intothe " href="https://pims.edu/?s=%ec%9a%a9%ec%82%b0%ed%9c%b4%ea%b2%8c%ed%85%94%e2%99%a5pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7%ec%bb%b4%e2%9d%84%ec%8b%a0%ec%82%ac%ed%9c%b4%ea%b2%8c%ed%85%94%e2%9c%8f%eb%b6%80%ec%82%b0%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc  " target="_blank"> frowning intothe windo</a>ws of a jewelry store. Suddenly he saw me and walked backholding out his hand."What's the matter, Nick? Do you object to shaking hands with me?""Yes. You know what I think of you.""You're crazy, Nick," he said quickly. "Crazy as hell.<a title=" I don't knowwhat's t" href="https://www.indifferentlanguages.com/words/%ec%96%91%ec%9e%ac%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc%e2%99%8fpukpuk1%eb%8b%b7com%e2%97%80%ec%96%91%ec%9e%ac%ed%92%80%ec%82%b4%eb%a1%b1%e2%9d%84%ec%88%98%ec%98%81%ea%b1%b4%eb%a7%88  " target="_blank"> I don't knowwhat's </a>the matter with you.""Tom," I inquired, "what did you say to Wilson that afternoon?"He stared at me without a word and I knew I had guessed right aboutthose missing hours. I started to turn away but he took a step after meand grabbed my <br><a title="arm."I told h" href="https://pims.edu/?s=%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">arm."I told him the tru</a><br>th," he said. "He came to the door while we weregetting ready to leave and when I sent down word that we weren't in hetried to force his way upstairs. He was crazy enough to kill me if Ihadn't told him who owned the car. His hand was <a title="on a revolver