be more discreet to go to “It’d Europe.” do you like she exclaimed surprisingly. just got back from “Oh, Europe?” “I Monte Carlo.” “Really.” last year. I went over there with another “Just girl.” “Stay long?” we just went to Monte Carlo and back. We went by way of Marseilles. We had over twelve “No, hundred dollars when we started, but we got gypped out of 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 bloomed in the window for a moment like the blue honey of the Mediterranean—then the shrill voice of Mrs. McKee called me back into the room. almost made a she declared vigorously. almost married a little “I mistake, too,” “I kyke who’d been after me for years. I knew he was below me. Everybody kept saying to me: that ‘Lucille, below But if I met Chester, of got me man’s ‘way you!’ hadn’t he’d sure.” but said Myrtle Wilson, nodding her head up and down, least you marry “Yes, listen,” “at didn’t him.” know I “I didn’t.” I married said Myrtle, ambiguously. the difference between your case “Well, him,” “And that’s and mine.” did you, demanded Catherine. forced you “Why Myrtle?” “Nobody to.” Myrtle considered. married him because I thought he was a she said finally. thought he knew “I gentleman,” “I something about breeding, but he fit to lick my wasn’t shoe.” were crazy about him for a said Catherine. “You while,” about cried Myrtle incredulously. said I was crazy about him? I never was “Crazy him!” “Who any more crazy about him than I was about that man there.”
“It’d be more discreet 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.” “Stay long?” “No, we just went to Monte Carlo and back. We went by way of Marseilles. We had over twelve hundred dollars when we started, but we got gypped out of 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 bloomed in the window for a moment like the blue honey of the Mediterranean—then the shrill voice of Mrs. McKee called me back into the room. “I almost made a mistake, too,” she declared vigorously. “I almost married a little kyke who’d been after me for years. I knew he was below me. Everybody kept saying to me: ‘Lucille, that man’s ‘way below you!’ But if I hadn’t met Chester, he’d of got me sure.” “Yes, but listen,” said Myrtle Wilson, nodding her head up and down, “at least you didn’t marry him.” “I know I didn’t.” “Well, I married him,” said Myrtle, ambiguously. “And that’s the difference between your case and mine.” “Why did you, Myrtle?” demanded Catherine. “Nobody forced you to.” Myrtle considered. “I married him because I thought he was a gentleman,” she said finally. “I thought he knew something about breeding, but he wasn’t fit to lick my shoe.” “You were crazy about him for a while,” said Catherine. “Crazy about him!” cried Myrtle incredulously. “Who said I was crazy about him? I never was any more crazy about him than I was about that man there.”
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