Tom and Miss Baker, with several feet of twilight between them, strolled back into the library. Trying to look pleasantly interested and a little deaf, I followed Daisy around a chain of connecting verandas to the porch in front. In its deep gloom we sat down side by side on a bamboo bench.
Daisy took her face in her hands, and her eyes moved gradually out into the velvet dusk. I saw that turbulent emotions possessed her, so I asked what I thought would be some sedative questions about her little girl.
«We dont know each other very well, Nick», she said suddenly. «Even if we are cousins. You didnt come to my wedding».
«I wasnt back from the war».
«Thats true». She hesitated. «Well, Ive had a very bad time, Nick, and Im pretty cynical about everything».
Obviously she had reason to be. I waited but she didnt say any more, and after a moment I returned to the subject of her daughter.
«I suppose she talks, and eats, and everything».
«Oh, yes». She looked at me absently. «Listen, Nick; let me tell you what I said when she was born. Would you like to hear?»
«Very much».
«Well, she was less than an hour old and Tom was God knows where. I woke up out of the ether with an absolutely abandoned feeling, and asked the nurse if it was a boy or a girl. She told me it was a girl, and so I turned my head away and wept. All right, I said, Im glad its a girl. And I hope shell be a fool thats the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool».
«You see I think everythings terrible», she went on in a convinced way. «Everybody thinks so the most advanced people. And I KNOW. Ive been everywhere and seen everything and done everything». She laughed with thrilling scorn. «Sophisticated God, Im sophisticated!»
The moment her voice stopped, I felt the basic insincerity of what she had said. It made me uneasy, as though the whole evening had been a trick of some sort to extract a contributory emotion from me. I waited, and sure enough, in a moment she looked at me with a grin on her lovely face, as if she had asserted her membership in a rather distinguished secret society to which she and Tom belonged.
Inside, the crimson room bloomed with light.
Tom and Miss Baker sat at either end of the long sofa and she read aloud to him from the SATURDAY EVENING POST.
When we came in she held us silent for a moment with a lifted hand.
«To be continued», she said, putting the magazine on the table, «in our next issue».
She stood up.
«Ten oclock», she remarked, apparently finding the time on the ceiling. «Time for this good girl to go to bed».
«Jordans going to play in the tournament tomorrow», explained Daisy, «over at Westchester».
«Oh youre Jordan BAKER».
I knew now why her face was familiar its scornful expression had looked out at me from many pictures of the sporting life at Asheville and Hot Springs and Palm Beach. I had heard some story of her too, a critical, unpleasant story, but what it was I had forgotten long ago.
«Good night», she said softly. «Wake me at eight, wont you».
«If youll get up».
«I will. Good night, Mr. Carraway. See you soon».
«Of course you will», confirmed Daisy. «In fact I think Ill arrange a marriage. Come over often, Nick, and Ill sort of oh fling you together. You know lock you up accidentally in linen closets and push you out to sea in a boat, and all that sort of thing»
«Good night», called Miss Baker from the stairs. «I havent heard a word».
«Shes a nice girl», said Tom after a moment. «They shouldnt
let her run around the country this way».
«Who shouldnt to?» inquired Daisy coldly.
«Her family».
«Her family is one aunt about a thousand years old. Besides, Nicks going to look after her, arent you, Nick? Shes going to spend lots of week-ends out here this summer. I think the home influence will be very good for her».
Daisy and Tom looked at each other for a moment in silence.
«Is she from New York?» I asked quickly.
«From Louisville. Our girlhood was passed together there».
«Did you give Nick a little heart to heart talk on the veranda?» asked Tom suddenly.
«Did I?» She looked at me.
«I dont remember, but I think we talked about the Nordic race. Yes, Im sure we did».
«Dont believe everything you hear, Nick», he advised me.
I said lightly that I had heard nothing at all, and a few minutes later I got up to go home. They came to the door with me and stood side by side in a cheerful square of light.
Their attention rather touched me and made them less remotely rich nevertheless, I was confused as I drove away. It seemed to me that Daisy had to rush out of the house, with the child in arms but apparently there were no such intentions in her head. As for Tom, the fact that he «had some woman in New York» was really less surprising than that he had been depressed by a book.
When I reached my estate at West Egg I sat for a while on a grass mower in the yard. The wind had blown off, the night was bright. Suddenly I saw that I was not alone fifty feet away a figure had emerged from the shadow of my neighbors mansion and was standing with his hands in his pockets looking at the silver pepper of the stars. Something in his leisurely movements and the secure position of his feet upon the lawn suggested that it was Mr. Gatsby himself, come out to determine what share was his of our local heavens.