"Not that day I carried you down from the Punch B

r<a title="ooms and poolrooms,an" 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">ooms and poolroom</a>s,and bathrooms with sunken baths--intruding into one chamber where adishevelled man in pajamas was doing liver exercises on the floor. Itwas Mr. Klipspringer, the "boarder." I had seen him wandering hungrilyabout the beach that morning. Finally we came to Gatsby's own apartment,a bedroom and a bath and <br><a title="an Adam study, where we " 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">an Adam study,</a><br> where we sat down and drank aglass of some Chartreuse he took from a cupboard in the wall.He hadn't once ceased looking at Daisy and I think he revaluedeverything in his house according to the measure of response it drewfrom her well-loved eyes. Sometimes, too, he stared around at hispossessions in a dazed<a title=" way as though in her" href="https://thebridge.in/search?search=%ec%84%b1%eb%82%a8%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc%e2%98%80www.pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7com%e2%98%9c%ec%98%a4%ea%b8%88%ec%95%88%eb%a7%88%e2%99%8f%ec%a4%91%eb%9e%91%ec%86%8c%ed%94%84%ed%8a%b8%eb%a3%b8  " target="_blank"> way as though </a>in her actual and astoundingpresence none of it was any longer real. Once he nearly toppled down aflight of stairs.His bedroom was the simplest room of all--except where the dresser wasgarnished with a toilet set of pure dull gold. Daisy took the brushwith delight and smoothed her hair, whereupon Gatsby sa<a title="t down andsha" href="https://thebridge.in/search?search=%ec%95%88%ec%96%91%ec%a3%bc%ec%a0%90+pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7com+%ea%b8%88%ed%98%b8%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc%e2%98%82%ea%b3%bc%ec%b2%9c%ec%86%8c%ed%94%84%ed%8a%b8%eb%a3%b8  " target="_blank">t down andshaded his</a><br> eyes and began to laugh."It's the funniest thing, old sport," he said hilariously. "I can't--whenI try to----"He had passed visibly through two states and was entering upon a third.After his embarrassment and his unreasoning joy he was consumed withwonder at her presence. He had been full of the idea<a title=" so long, dreamed i" href="https://thebridge.in/search?search=%ec%86%8c%ec%82%ac%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc+pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7com%e2%9d%a4%ec%82%ac%eb%8b%b9%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc%e2%9d%84%ea%b8%88%ec%a0%95%ea%b1%b4%eb%a7%88  " target="_blank"> so long, dre</a>amed itright through to the end, waited with his teeth set, so to speak, at aninconceivable pitch of intensity. Now, in the reaction, he was runningdown like an overwound clock.Recovering himself in a minute he opened for us two hulking patentcabinets which held his massed suits and dressing-gowns and ties, <a title="andhis shirts, " href="https://thebridge.in/search?search=%eb%b6%84%eb%8b%b9%ed%82%a4%ec%8a%a4%eb%b0%a9%e2%99%93pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7com%e2%98%82%ec%95%95%ea%b5%ac%ec%a0%95%ec%95%88%eb%a7%88%e2%9c%8f%ea%b0%95%eb%8f%99%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc  " target="_blank">andhis shirts, piled lik</a>e bricks in stacks a dozen high."I've got a man in England who buys me clothes. He sends over a selectionof things at the beginning of each season, spring and fall."He took out a pile of shirts and began throwing them, one by onebefore us, shirts of sheer linen and thick silk and fine flannelwhich<br><a title=" lost their fo" href="https://thebridge.in/search?search=%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"> lost their folds as t</a>hey fell and covered the table inmany-colored disarray. While we admired he brought more and the softrich heap mounted higher--shirts with stripes and scrolls and plaids incoral and apple-green and lavender and faint orange with monograms ofIndian blue. Suddenly with a strained sound, Daisy bent her<br><a title=" head intothe shi" href="https://pims.edu/?s=%ea%b1%b4%eb%8c%80%ec%9e%85%ea%b5%ac%ec%95%88%eb%a7%88%e2%9d%87pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7%ec%bb%b4%e2%98%9c%ec%98%a4%ea%b8%88%ed%9c%b4%ea%b2%8c%ed%85%94%e2%98%85%ed%8f%89%ed%83%9d%ea%b1%b4%eb%a7%88  " target="_blank"> head intothe shir</a>ts and began to cry stormily."They're such beautiful shirts," she sobbed, her voice muffled in thethick folds. "It makes me sad because I've never seen such--such beautifulshirts before."After the house, we were to see the grounds and the swimming pool, and thehydroplane and the midsummer flowers--but o<a title="utside Gatsby's wind" href="https://www.indifferentlanguages.com/words/%ec%8b%a0%eb%a6%bc%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc+pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7%ec%bb%b4%e2%98%85%ec%84%b1%eb%82%a8%ec%95%88%eb%a7%88%e2%9d%87%ec%a2%85%eb%a1%9c%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc  " target="_blank">utside Gatsby's window i</a>tbegan to rain again so we stood in a row looking at the corrugatedsurface of the Sound."If it wasn't for the mist we could see your home across the bay," saidGatsby. "You always have a green light that burns all night at the end ofyour dock."Daisy put her arm through his abruptly but he seemed ab<a title="sorbedin what he had" href="https://www.indifferentlanguages.com/words/%ec%8b%a0%eb%a6%bc%ec%95%88%eb%a7%88%e2%97%80www.pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7%ec%bb%b4%e2%98%82%ec%84%b1%eb%82%a8%ed%82%a4%ec%8a%a4%eb%b0%a9%e2%86%97%ec%9c%a0%ec%84%b1%ec%86%8c%ed%94%84%ed%8a%b8%eb%a3%b8  " target="_blank">sorbedin wha</a>t he had just said. Possibly it had occurred to him that thecolossal significance of that light had now vanished forever. Comparedto the great distance that had separated him from Daisy it had seemedvery near to her, almost touching her. It had seemed as close as a starto the moon. Now it was again a green li<a title="ght on a dock. His " href="https://www.indifferentlanguages.com/words/%ec%84%9c%ec%b4%88%ec%95%88%eb%a7%88%e2%9d%87pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7com%e2%86%97%ec%88%98%ec%84%9c%ec%95%88%eb%a7%88%e2%9d%87%ec%95%88%ec%96%91%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc  " target="_blank">ght on a dock. His c</a>ount ofenchanted objects had diminished by one.I began to walk about the room, examining various indefinite objects inthe half darkness. A large photograph of an elderly man in yachtingcostume attracted me, hung on the wall over his desk."Who's this?""That? That's Mr. Dan Cody, old sport."The name sou<br><a title="nded faintly familia" href="https://www.indifferentlanguages.com/words/%ec%84%9c%ec%b4%88%ec%95%88%eb%a7%88%e2%9d%a4pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7%ec%bb%b4%e2%98%85%ec%88%98%ec%a0%95%ed%9c%b4%ea%b2%8c%ed%85%94%e2%99%93%ec%a4%91%ea%b5%ac%ec%86%8c%ed%94%84%ed%8a%b8%eb%a3%b8  " target="_blank">nded faintly familiar.</a><br>"He's dead now. He used to be my best friend years ago."There was a small picture of Gatsby, also in yachting costume, on thebureau--Gatsby with his head thrown back defiantly--taken apparentlywhen he was about eighteen."I adore it!" exclaimed Daisy. "The pompadour! You never told me you hada pompad<br><a title="our--or a yacht.""Look" href="https://www.indifferentlanguages.com/words/%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">our--or a yacht.""L</a><br>ook at this," said Gatsby quickly. "Here's a lot of clippings--aboutyou."They stood side by side examining it. I was going to ask to see the rubieswhen the phone rang and Gatsby took up the receiver."Yes. . . . Well, I can't talk now. . . . I can't talk now, oldsport. . . . I said a SMALL town. . . . H<a title="e must know what a" href="https://pims.edu/?s=%eb%b6%84%eb%8b%b9%ec%95%88%eb%a7%88%e2%99%8bwww.pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7com%e2%97%80%ec%84%b1%eb%82%a8%ec%a3%bc%ec%a0%90%e2%9c%8f%ec%a4%91%eb%9e%91%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc  " target="_blank">e must know what a sm</a>all townis. . . . Well, he's no use to us if Detroit is his idea of a smalltown. . . ."He rang off."Come here QUICK!" cried Daisy at the window.The rain was still falling, but the darkness had parted in the west,and there was a pink and golden billow of foamy clouds above the sea."Look at that," she <a title="whispered, and then a" href="https://www.indifferentlanguages.com/words/%ec%8b%a0%ec%82%ac%eb%a0%88%ea%b9%85%ec%8a%a4%eb%a3%b8+www.pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7com%e2%9e%8a%ec%88%98%ec%84%9c%ed%82%a4%ec%8a%a4%eb%b0%a9%e2%98%9c%ec%9d%80%ed%8f%89%ea%b1%b4%eb%a7%88  " target="_blank">whispered, and</a><br> then after a moment: "I'd like tojust get one of those pink clouds and put you in it and push youaround."I tried to go then, but they wouldn't hear of it; perhaps my presencemade them feel more satisfactorily alone."I know what we'll do," said Gatsby, "we'll have Klipspringer play thepiano."He went out of <br><a title="the room calling "Ew" href="https://thebridge.in/search?search=%eb%b6%80%ec%b2%9c%eb%a0%88%ea%b9%85%ec%8a%a4%eb%a3%b8%e2%99%a5pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7com%e2%97%86%ec%84%9c%ec%b4%88%eb%a0%88%ea%b9%85%ec%8a%a4%eb%a3%b8%e2%99%8b%ec%9a%a9%ec%9d%b8%ea%b1%b4%eb%a7%88  " target="_blank">the room calling "Ewi</a>ng!" and returned in a fewminutes accompanied by an embarrassed, slightly worn young man withshell-rimmed glasses and scanty blonde hair. He was now decently clothedin a "sport shirt" open at the neck, sneakers and duck trousers of anebulous hue."Did we interrupt your exercises?" inquired Daisy polit<br><a title="ely."I was asleep" href="https://thebridge.in/search?search=%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">ely."I was asleep," </a><br>cried Mr. Klipspringer, in a spasm of embarrassment."That is, I'd BEEN asleep. Then I got up. . . .""Klipspringer plays the piano," said Gatsby, cutting him off. "Don't you,Ewing, old sport?""I don't play well. I don't--I hardly play at all. I'm all out ofprac----""We'll go downstairs," interrupted Ga<a title="tsby. He