1 The Great Gatsby
upper window.
‘I’ll get some whiskey,’ answered Tom. He went inside.
Gatsby turned to me rigidly:
‘I can’t say anything in his house, old sport.’
‘She’s got an indiscreet voice,’ I remarked. ‘It’s full of—
—‘
I hesitated.
‘Her voice is full of money,’ he said suddenly.
That was it. I’d never understood before. It was full of
money—that was the inexhaustible charm that rose and fell
in it, the jingle of it, the cymbals’ song of it.... High in a
white palace the king’s daughter, the golden girl....
Tom came out of the house wrapping a quart bottle in
a towel, followed by Daisy and Jordan wearing small tight
hats of metallic cloth and carrying light capes over their
arms.
‘Shall we all go in my car?’ suggested Gatsby. He felt the
hot, green leather of the seat. ‘I ought to have left it in the
shade.’
‘Is it standard shift?’ demanded Tom.
‘Yes.’
‘Well, you take my coupé and let me drive your car to
town.’
The suggestion was distasteful to Gatsby.
‘I don’t think there’s much gas,’ he objected.
‘Plenty of gas,’ said Tom boisterously. He looked at the
gauge. ‘And if it runs out I can stop at a drug store. You can
buy anything at a drug store nowadays.’
A pause followed this apparently pointless remark. Dai-