“Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,” he told me, “just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”
“Is something happening?” I inquired innocently.“You mean to say you don’t know?” said Miss Baker, honestly surprised. “I thought everybody knew.”“I don’t.”“Why ——” she said hesitantly, “Tom’s got some woman in New York.”“Got some woman?” I repeated blankly.Miss Baker nodded.
I didn’t call to him, for he gave a sudden intimation that he was content to be alone — he stretched out his arms toward the dark water in a curious way, and, far as I was from him, I could have sworn he was trembling. Involuntarily I glanced seaward — and distinguished nothing except a single green light, minute and far away, that might have been the end of a dock. When I looked once more for Gatsby he had vanished, and I was alone again in the unquiet darkness.
But above the gray land and the spasms of bleak dust which drift endlessly over it, you perceive, after a moment, the eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg. The eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg are blue and gigantic — their irises are one yard high.
She smiled slowly and, walking through her husband as if he were a ghost, shook hands with Tom, looking him flush in the eye.“I want to see you,” said Tom intently. “Get on the next train.”“All right.”
“Daisy! Daisy! Daisy!” shouted Mrs. Wilson. “I’ll say it whenever I want to! Daisy! Dai ——”Making a short deft movement, Tom Buchanan broke her nose with his open hand.