"There was a moment of silence. The telephone b

l<a title="ittle investigation int" href="https://thebridge.in/search?search=%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">ittle investigation i</a>nto your affairs--and I'll carry it furthertomorrow.""You can suit yourself about that, old sport." said Gatsby steadily."I found out what your 'drug stores' were." He turned to us and spokerapidly. "He and this Wolfshiem bought up a lot of side-street drug storeshere and in Chicago and sold grain alcohol over the counte<a title="r. That's one " href="https://thebridge.in/search?search=%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">r. That's one ofhis l</a><br>ittle stunts. I picked him for a bootlegger the first time I sawhim and I wasn't far wrong.""What about it?" said Gatsby politely. "I guess your friend Walter Chasewasn't too proud to come in on it.""And you left him in the lurch, didn't you? You let him go to jail fora month over in New Jersey. God! You ought to hear Wa<a title="lter on the subjectof" href="https://pims.edu/?s=%eb%8f%99%ec%9e%91%ec%95%88%eb%a7%88%e2%9e%8apukpuk1%eb%8b%b7com%e2%9c%94%ec%9a%a9%ec%82%b0%eb%a0%88%ea%b9%85%ec%8a%a4%eb%a3%b8%e2%99%93%eb%8f%99%eb%8c%80%eb%ac%b8%ec%86%8c%ed%94%84%ed%8a%b8%eb%a3%b8  " target="_blank">lter on the subjectof Y</a>OU.""He came to us dead broke. He was very glad to pick up some money, oldsport.""Don't you call me 'old sport'!" cried Tom. Gatsby said nothing."Walter could have you up on the betting laws too, but Wolfshiem scaredhim into shutting his mouth."That unfamiliar yet recognizable look was back again in Gatsby's face."That<a title=" drug store busine" href="https://pims.edu/?s=%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"> drug store b</a>usiness was just small change," continued Tom slowly,"but you've got something on now that Walter's afraid to tell meabout."I glanced at Daisy who was staring terrified between Gatsbyand her husband and at Jordan who had begun to balance an invisiblebut absorbing object on the tip of her chin. Then I turned back toGatsby--and wa<a title="s startled a" href="https://thebridge.in/search?search=%ec%95%88%ec%96%91%ed%92%80%ec%82%b4%eb%a1%b1%e2%9d%a4pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7com%e2%97%80%ea%b0%95%eb%82%a8%ed%82%a4%ec%8a%a4%eb%b0%a9%e2%98%9c%ed%8c%94%eb%8b%ac%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc  " target="_blank">s startled at his expr</a>ession. He looked--and this is saidin all contempt for the babbled slander of his garden--as if he had"killed a man." For a moment the set of his face could be described injust that fantastic way.It passed, and he began to talk excitedly to Daisy, denying everything,defending his name against accusations that had not be<br><a title="en made. But wit" href="https://pims.edu/?s=%ec%98%a5%ec%88%98%ed%82%a4%ec%8a%a4%eb%b0%a9%e2%98%80www.pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7%ec%bb%b4+%ea%b1%b4%eb%8c%80%ec%9e%85%ea%b5%ac%ec%85%94%ec%b8%a0%eb%a3%b8%e2%97%86%ec%95%88%ec%96%91%ea%b1%b4%eb%a7%88  " target="_blank">en made. But withev</a>ery word she was drawing further and further into herself, so he gavethat up and only the dead dream fought on as the afternoon slippedaway, trying to touch what was no longer tangible, strugglingunhappily, undespairingly, toward that lost voice across the room.The voice begged again to go."PLEASE, Tom! I can't stand this <a title="any more."Her" href="https://pims.edu/?s=%ec%98%a5%ec%88%98%ec%95%88%eb%a7%88%e2%99%8fpukpuk1%eb%8b%b7%ec%bb%b4%e2%98%9c%ec%b2%9c%ed%98%b8%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc%e2%97%86%eb%82%a8%ec%96%91%ec%a3%bc%ea%b1%b4%eb%a7%88  " target="_blank">any more."Her fright</a>ened eyes told that whatever intentions, whatever courageshe had had, were definitely gone."You two start on home, Daisy," said Tom. "In Mr. Gatsby's car."She looked at Tom, alarmed now, but he insisted with magnanimous scorn."Go on. He won't annoy you. I think he realizes that his presumptuouslittle flirtation is over."T<a title="hey were gone" 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">hey were gone, wi</a><br>thout a word, snapped out, made accidental, isolated,like ghosts even from our pity.After a moment Tom got up and began wrapping the unopened bottle ofwhiskey in the towel."Want any of this stuff? Jordan? . . . Nick?"I didn't answer."Nick?" He asked again."What?""Want any?""No . . . I just remembered that today's my birthday<br><a title="."I was thirty. Befor" href="https://thebridge.in/search?search=%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">."I was thirty. Befo</a><br>re me stretched the portentous menacing road of anew decade.It was seven o'clock when we got into the coupé with him and startedfor Long Island. Tom talked incessantly, exulting and laughing, but hisvoice was as remote from Jordan and me as the foreign clamor on thesidewalk or the tumult of the elevated overhead. Human sy<a title="mpathyhas its limi" href="https://www.indifferentlanguages.com/words/%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">mpathyhas its limi</a>ts and we were content to let all their tragic argumentsfade with the city lights behind. Thirty--the promise of a decadeof loneliness, a thinning list of single men to know, a thinningbrief-case of enthusiasm, thinning hair. But there was Jordan besideme who, unlike Daisy, was too wise ever to carry well-forgottendreams fr<br><a title="om age to age. A" href="https://pims.edu/?s=%ec%98%a5%ec%88%98%ed%92%80%ec%82%b4%eb%a1%b1%e2%99%8fwww.pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7com+%eb%8f%99%ec%9e%91%ec%95%88%eb%a7%88%e2%9c%94%ec%84%b1%eb%b6%81%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc  " target="_blank">om age to age. As we</a><br> passed over the dark bridge her wan facefell lazily against my coat's shoulder and the formidable stroke ofthirty died away with the reassuring pressure of her hand.So we drove on toward death through the cooling twilight.The young Greek, Michaelis, who ran the coffee joint beside theashheaps was the principal witness at<br><a title=" the inquest. He had s" href="https://thebridge.in/search?search=%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"> the inquest. He </a><br>had slept throughthe heat until after five, when he strolled over to the garage andfound George Wilson sick in his office--really sick, pale as his ownpale hair and shaking all over. Michaelis advised him to go to bed butWilson refused, saying that he'd miss a lot of business if he did.While his neighbor was trying to persua<br><a title="de him a violent racke" href="https://pims.edu/?s=%ec%88%98%ec%84%9c%ed%82%a4%ec%8a%a4%eb%b0%a9%e2%98%82www.pukpuk1%eb%8b%b7%ec%bb%b4%e2%9d%87%ec%82%ac%eb%8b%b9%ec%98%a4%ed%94%bc%e2%9e%8a%ec%84%b1%eb%8f%99%ec%86%8c%ed%94%84%ed%8a%b8%eb%a3%b8  " target="_blank">de him a viol</a><br>ent racket brokeout overhead."I've got my wife locked in up there," explained Wilson calmly."She's going to stay there till the day after tomorrow and then we'regoing to move away."Michaelis was astonished; they had been neighbors for four years andWilson had never seemed faintly capable of such a statement. Generallyhe was one <a title="o