another commanded Daisy, without turning around. “Open window,” any “There aren’t more.” telephone for an axe——” “Well, we’d better thing to do is to forget about the said Tom impatiently. make it ten times worse “The heat,” “You by crabbing about it.” He unrolled the bottle of whiskey from the towel and put it on the table. not let her alone, old remarked Gatsby. the one that wanted to come to “Why sport?” “You’re town.” There was a moment of silence. The telephone book slipped from its nail and splashed to the floor, whereupon Jordan this time no one laughed. whispered, “Excuse me.”—but pick it I offered. “I’ll up,” got Gatsby examined the parted string, muttered in an interested way, and “I’ve it.” “Hum!” tossed the book on a chair. a great expression of yours, said Tom sharply. “That’s isn’t it?” “What is?” this business. you pick that “All ‘old sport’ Where’d up?” see here, said Daisy, turning around from the mirror, going to make “Now Tom,” “if you’re personal remarks I stay here a minute. Call up and order some ice for the won’t mint julep.” As Tom took up the receiver the compressed heat exploded into sound and we were listening to the portentous chords of from the ballroom below. Mendelssohn’s Wedding March marrying anybody in this cried Jordan dismally. “Imagine heat!” was married in the middle of Daisy remembered, in June! Somebody “Still—I June,” “Louisville fainted. Who was it fainted, Tom?”
“Open another window,” commanded Daisy, without turning around. “There aren’t any more.” “Well, we’d better telephone for an axe——” “The thing to do is to forget about the heat,” said Tom impatiently. “You make it ten times worse by crabbing about it.” He unrolled the bottle of whiskey from the towel and put it on the table. “Why not let her alone, old sport?” remarked Gatsby. “You’re the one that wanted to come to town.” There was a moment of silence. The telephone book slipped from its nail and splashed to the floor, whereupon Jordan whispered, “Excuse me.”—but this time no one laughed. “I’ll pick it up,” I offered. “I’ve got it.” Gatsby examined the parted string, muttered “Hum!” in an interested way, and tossed the book on a chair. “That’s a great expression of yours, isn’t it?” said Tom sharply. “What is?” “All this ‘old sport’ business. Where’d you pick that up?” “Now see here, Tom,” said Daisy, turning around from the mirror, “if you’re going to make personal remarks I won’t stay here a minute. Call up and order some ice for the mint julep.” As Tom took up the receiver the compressed heat exploded into sound and we were listening to the portentous chords of Mendelssohn’s Wedding March from the ballroom below. “Imagine marrying anybody in this heat!” cried Jordan dismally. “Still—I was married in the middle of June,” Daisy remembered, “Louisville in June! Somebody fainted. Who was it fainted, Tom?”