Tom turned to me. live near here, “You Nick?” “Next door.” “That so?” Mr. Sloane enter into the conversation, but lounged back haughtily in his chair; the didn’t woman said nothing either—until unexpectedly, after two highballs, she became cordial. all come over to your next party, Mr. she suggested. do you “We’ll Gatsby,” “What say?” be delighted to have “Certainly; I’d you.” said Mr. Sloane, without ought to be starting “Be ver’ nice,” gratitude. “Well—think home.” Gatsby urged them. He had control of himself now, and he wanted to see “Please don’t hurry,” more of Tom. you—why you stay for supper? I be surprised if some “Why don’t don’t wouldn’t other people dropped in from New York.” come to supper with said the lady enthusiastically. of “You ME,” “Both you.” This included me. Mr. Sloane got to his feet. he said—but to her only. “Come along,” mean she insisted. love to have you. Lots of “I it,” “I’d room.” Gatsby looked at me questioningly. He wanted to go, and he see that Mr. Sloane had didn’t determined he shouldn’t. afraid I be able I said. “I’m won’t to,” you she urged, concentrating on Gatsby. “Well, come,” Mr. Sloane murmured something close to her ear. be late if we start she insisted aloud. “We won’t now,”
Tom turned to me. “You live near here, Nick?” “Next door.” “That so?” Mr. Sloane didn’t enter into the conversation, but lounged back haughtily in his chair; the woman said nothing either—until unexpectedly, after two highballs, she became cordial. “We’ll all come over to your next party, Mr. Gatsby,” she suggested. “What do you say?” “Certainly; I’d be delighted to have you.” “Be ver’ nice,” said Mr. Sloane, without gratitude. “Well—think ought to be starting home.” “Please don’t hurry,” Gatsby urged them. He had control of himself now, and he wanted to see more of Tom. “Why don’t you—why don’t you stay for supper? I wouldn’t be surprised if some other people dropped in from New York.” “You come to supper with ME,” said the lady enthusiastically. “Both of you.” This included me. Mr. Sloane got to his feet. “Come along,” he said—but to her only. “I mean it,” she insisted. “I’d love to have you. Lots of room.” Gatsby looked at me questioningly. He wanted to go, and he didn’t see that Mr. Sloane had determined he shouldn’t. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to,” I said. “Well, you come,” she urged, concentrating on Gatsby. Mr. Sloane murmured something close to her ear. “We won’t be late if we start now,” she insisted aloud.
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