Tom and Nick entered in Tom's and Daisy's house. Daisy was happy to her cousin Nick.
I'm p-paralyzed with happiness.
Nick told her how he stopped off in Chicago for a day on his way east and how a dozen people had sent their love through me. Daisy ask if they missed her at the east.
The whole town is desolate. All the cars have the leaf rear wheel painted black as mourning wreath and there's a persistent wail all night along the North Shore.
Do they miss me?
Tom who had been hovering restlessly around the room stopped and rest his hand on Nick's shoulder. Tom told Nick he never heard of them. That annoyed Nick.
You will, you will if you stay in the East
Oh, I’ll stay in the East, don’t you worry
Nick was looking at Miss Baker and they both stated to talk about Gatsby.
You live in West Egg, I know somebody there. You must know Gatsby.
Gatsby? What's Gatsby?
Dinner was announced; wedging his tense arm imperatively under mine, Tom Buchanan compelled me from the room as though he were moving a checker to another square.
We ought to plan something.
All right, what'll we plan?
They were talking about the differences from the West Egg where an evening was hurried from phase to phase toward its close in a continually disappointed anticipation or else in sheer nervous dread of the moment itself.
Civilization’s going to pieces
You make me feel uncivilized, Daisy Can’t you talk about crops or something?