Catherine leaned close to me and whispered in my ear: «Neither of them can stand the person theyre married to».
«Cant they?»
«Cant STAND them». She looked at Myrtle and then at Tom. «What I say is, why go on living with them if they cant stand them? If I were them Id get a divorce and get married to each other right away».
«Doesnt she like Wilson either?»
The answer to this was unexpected. It came from Myrtle, who had overheard the question, and it was violent and obscene.
«You see», cried Catherine triumphantly. She lowered her voice again. «Its really his wife thats keeping them apart. Shes a Catholic, and they dont believe in divorce».
Daisy was not a Catholic, and I was a little shocked at the lie.
«When they get married at last», continued Catherine, «theyre going West to live for a while until it blows over».
«Itd be more sensible to go to Europe».
«Oh, do you like Europe?» she exclaimed surprisingly. «I just got back from Monte Carlo».
«Really».
«Just last year. I went over there with another girl».
«Did you stay there long?»
«No, we just went to Monte Carlo and back. We had over twelve hundred dollars when we started, but we lost it all in two days in the private rooms. We had an awful time getting back, I can tell you. God, how I hated that town!»
The late afternoon sky shone in the window for a moment like the blue honey of the Mediterranean then the sharp voice of Mrs. McKee called me back into the room.
«I almost made a mistake, too», she declared enthusiastically. «I almost married a nonentity whod been after me for years. I knew he was below me. Everybody kept saying to me: Lucille, that mans way below you! But for Chester, I could marry him».
«Yes, but listen», said Myrtle Wilson, «at least you didnt marry him».
«I know I didnt».
«Well, I married him», said Myrtle,
ambiguously. «And thats the difference between your case and mine».
«Why did you, Myrtle?» said Catherine. «Nobody forced you to».
«I married him because I thought he was a gentleman», Myrtle said finally. «I thought he knew something about manners, but he wasnt fit to lick my shoe».
«You were crazy about him for a while», said Catherine.
«Crazy about him!» cried Myrtle in disbelief. «Who said I was crazy about him? I never was any more crazy about him than I was about that man there».
She pointed suddenly at me, and every one looked at me accusingly. I tried to show by my expression that I had played no part in her past.
«I was crazy when I married him. I knew right away I made a mistake. He borrowed somebodys best suit to get married in, and never even told me about it, and the man came after it one day when he was out. Oh, is that your suit? I said, this is the first time I ever heard about it. But I gave it to him and then I lay down and cried all afternoon».
«She really ought to get away from him», resumed Catherine to me. «Theyve been living over that garage for eleven years. And Toms the first love she ever had».
The bottle of whiskey a second one was now in constant demand by all, excepting Catherine, who «felt just as good without drinking at all». I wanted to get out and walk southward toward the park through the soft twilight, but each time I tried to go I became involved in some wild argument which pulled me back, as if with ropes, into my chair.
Myrtle pulled her chair close to mine, and suddenly her warm breath poured over me the story of her first meeting with Tom.
«It was on the two little seats facing each other that are always the last ones left on the train. I was going up to New York to see my sister and spend the night. He had on a suit and leather shoes, and I couldnt keep my eyes off him, but every time he looked at me I had to pretend to be looking at the advertisement over his head. When we came into the station he was next to me, and his white shirt-front pressed against my arm, and so I told him Id have to call a policeman, but he knew I lied. I was so excited. All I kept thinking about, over and over, was You cant live forever; you cant live forever».
She turned to Mrs. McKee and the room rang full of her artificial laughter.
«My dear», she cried, «Im going to give you this dress. Ive got to get another one tomorrow. Im going to make a list of all the things Ive got to get. A massage, and a collar for the dog, and one of those cute little ash-trays where you touch a spring, and a wreath with a black silk bow for mothers grave thatll last all summer. I have to write down a list so I wont forget all the things I have to do».
It was nine oclock almost immediately afterward I looked at my watch and found it was ten. Mr. McKee was asleep on a chair.
Some time toward midnight Tom Buchanan and Mrs. Wilson stood face to face discussing, in passionate voices, whether Mrs. Wilson had any right to mention Daisys name.
«Daisy! Daisy! Daisy!» shouted Mrs. Wilson. «Ill say it whenever I want to! Daisy! Dal»