The Great Gatsby | Page 7

gotten to be a terrible pessimist about things. Have you
read ‘The Rise of the Coloured Empires’ by this man God-
dard?’
‘Why, no,’ I answered, rather surprised by his tone.
‘Well, it’s a fine book, and everybody ought to read it. The
idea is if we don’t look out the white race will be—will be ut-
terly submerged. It’s all scientific stuff; it’s been proved.’
‘Tom’s getting very profound,’ said Daisy with an expres-
sion of unthoughtful sadness. ‘He reads deep books with
long words in them. What was that word we——‘
‘Well, these books are all scientific,’ insisted Tom, glanc-
ing at her impatiently. ‘This fellow has worked out the whole
thing. It’s up to us who are the dominant race to watch out
or these other races will have control of things.’
‘We’ve got to beat them down,’ whispered Daisy, wink-
ing ferociously toward the fervent sun.
‘You ought to live in California—’ began Miss Baker but
Tom interrupted her by shi?fing heavily in his chair.
‘This idea is that we’re Nordics. I am, and you are and
you are and——’ A?fer an infinitesimal hesitation he in-
cluded Daisy with a slight nod and she winked at me again.
‘—and we’ve produced all the things that go to make civili-
zation—oh, science and art and all that. Do you see?’
There was something pathetic in his concentration as if
his complacency, more acute than of old, was not enough to
him any more. When, almost immediately, the telephone
rang inside and the butler le?f the porch Daisy seized upon
the momentary interruption and leaned toward me.
‘I’ll tell you a family secret,’ she whispered enthusiasti-

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cally. ‘It’s about the butler’s nose. Do you want to hear about
the butler’s nose?’
‘That’s why I came over tonight.’
‘Well, he wasn’t always a butler; he used to be the sil-
ver polisher for some people in New York that had a silver
service for two hundred people. He had to polish it from
morning till night until finally it began to affect his nose—
—‘
‘Things went from bad to worse,’ suggested Miss Baker.
‘Yes. Things went from bad to worse until finally he had
to give up his position.’
For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affec-
tion upon her glowing face; her voice compelled me forward
breathlessly as I listened—then the glow faded, each light
deserting her with lingering regret like children leaving a
pleasant street at dusk.
The butler came back and murmured something close to
Tom’s ear whereupon Tom frowned, pushed back his chair
and without a word went inside. As if his absence quickened
something within her Daisy leaned forward again, her voice
glowing and singing.
‘I love to see you at my table, Nick. You remind me of a—
of a rose, an absolute rose. Doesn’t he?’ She turned to Miss
Baker for confirmation. ‘An absolute rose?’
This was untrue. I am not even faintly like a rose. She
was only extemporizing but a stirring warmth flowed from
her as if her heart was trying to come out to you concealed
in one of those breathless, thrilling words. Then suddenly
she threw her napkin on the table and excused herself and

The Great Gatsby
1 

went into the house.
Miss Baker and I exchanged a short glance conscious-
ly devoid of meaning. I was about to speak when she sat
up alertly and said ‘Sh!’ in a warning voice. A subdued im-
passioned murmur was audible in the room beyond and
Miss Baker leaned forward, unashamed, trying to hear. The
murmur trembled on the verge of coherence, sank down,
mounted excitedly, and then ceased altogether.
‘This Mr. Gatsby you spoke of is my neighbor——’ I
said.
‘Don’t talk. I want to hear what happens.’
‘Is something happening?’ I inquired innocently.
‘You mean to say you don’t know?’ said Miss Baker, hon-
estly surprised. ‘I thought everybody knew.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Why——’ she said hesitantly, ‘Tom’s got some woman
in New York.’
‘Got