The Great Gatsby

The chapter opens with a poetic dedication to Zelda, Fitzgerald's own wife, written in the voice of Thomas Parke d'Invilliers. The verses describe a "gold-hatted, high-bouncing lover" who must captivate his beloved through movement and vitality, establishing the novel's themes of romantic pursuit and the pursuit of an ideal.

Nick recounts advice his father gave him during his youth: "Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone, just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had." This wisdom has shaped Nick's character, making him inclined to reserve all judgments about others.

Nick reflects on the limitations of his tolerant approach, acknowledging that while he practices reserved judgment as a matter of "infinite hope," he recognizes that conduct may be founded on solid ground or unstable marshes, and beyond a certain point, he no longer cares what foundation it rests upon. This admission reveals the complexity of his moral philosophy.

Gatsby is described as exceptional, exempt from Nick's usual reactions to people. Nick speaks of Gatsby's "heightened sensitivity to the promises of life," comparing him to a machine that registers earthquakes miles away. This responsiveness was not weakness but rather "an extraordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness" that Nick has never found in anyone else.

Nick describes his family's prominence in a Midwestern city over three generations. While the family has a tradition of descending from the Dukes of Buccleuch, the actual founder was his grandfather's brother who came in 1851, sent a substitute to the Civil War, and established a wholesale hardware business.

Nick graduated from Yale in 1915, a quarter century after his father, and later participated in the Great War. He enjoyed the counter-raid so thoroughly that he returned restless, feeling the Middle West seemed like "the ragged edge of the universe" compared to the world he had experienced abroad.

Restless upon returning from the war, Nick decided to go East and learn the bond business, reasoning that everyone he knew was in that industry. With financial support from his father, he came East permanently in the spring of 1922 after various delays.

Nick rented a house in one of the strangest communities in North America—on Long Island, where two enormous egg-shaped land formations jut into Long Island Sound. He lived at West Egg, the less fashionable of the two, in a small weather-beaten bungalow for eighty dollars a month. His house was next to Gatsby's colossal mansion, a factual imitation of a Norman Hôtel de Ville with forty acres of lawn and garden.

Tom Buchanan is described as a sturdy straw-haired man of thirty with a hard mouth and supercilious manner. His two shining arrogant eyes dominated his face, and despite his expensive riding clothes, his enormous powerful body filled his boots and strained at the top lacing. His voice was a gruff husky tenor with a touch of paternal contempt.

Inside, the house featured a bright rosy-colored space with French windows at either end. A breeze blew through the room, catching curtains and rippling over the wine-colored rug. The only completely stationary object was an enormous couch, giving the impression of floating within the room.

On the couch sat two young women in white dresses: Daisy Buchanan and Jordan Baker. Daisy attempted to rise, laughed, and welcomed Nick ecstatically, holding his hand and promising there was no one in the world she so much wanted to see. Jordan remained motionless with her chin raised, as if balancing something on it.

Daisy's voice is described as "thrilling," the kind the ear follows up and down, as if each speech were an arrangement of notes that would never be played again. Her face was sad and lovely with bright eyes and a bright passionate mouth, though men who had cared for her found it difficult to forget a "singing compulsion" in her voice.

When Tom asked what Nick was doing, Nick answered he was a bond man. When asked who with, Nick told him, and Tom remarked decisively he had never heard of them. Nick replied that Tom would hear of them if he stayed in the East. Tom then declared he would stay in the East.

Jordan Baker is described as a slender, small-breasted girl with an erect carriage that she accentuated by throwing her body backward at the shoulders. Her grey sun-strained eyes looked back at Nick with polite reciprocal curiosity out of a wan, charming, discontented face. She was "absolutely in training," drinking no cocktails.

Jordan contemptuously observed that Nick lived in West Egg and claimed she knew somebody there. When Nick denied knowing anyone, she said he must know Gatsby. The name surprised both Nick and Daisy, creating a moment of intrigue.

Tom interrupted the conversation about Gatsby by announcing dinner and wedging his tense arm under Nick's arm, compelling him from the room as though moving a checker to another square. The dinner was about to begin.

The two women led the way to a rosy-colored porch open toward the sunset, where four candles flickered on the table. Daisy frowningly snapped out the candles, noting that in two weeks it would be the longest day in the year, yet she always watched for it and missed it.

Daisy suddenly noticed her finger was injured—the knuckle was black and blue. She accused Tom of causing it, even though he didn't mean to. She called him "a brute of a man, a great, big, hulking physical specimen," and when Tom objected to the word "hulking," Daisy repeated it with insistence.

Tom brought up his views on civilization, having become "a terrible pessimist." He asked if Nick had read *The Rise of the Coloured Empires* by a man named Goddard. Tom explained the book's idea that if white people don't watch out, they will be "utterly submerged." He declared themselves Nordics, the dominant race that produced civilization through science and art.

Daisy offered to tell Nick a family secret about the butler's nose. She explained he used to be the silver polisher for people in New York who had a silver service for two hundred people. He had to polish it from morning till night until it began to affect his nose, things went from bad to worse, and finally he had to give up his position.

The last sunshine fell upon Daisy's glowing face as she told her story. As the butler returned and murmured something to Tom, the telephone rang inside and Tom frowned, pushed back his chair, and went inside. As if his absence quickened something within her, Daisy leaned forward, her voice glowing and singing.

The narrator describes a fantastic farm where ashes grow like wheat into ridges and hills and grotesque gardens, taking the forms of houses, chimneys, rising smoke, and finally ash-grey men who move dimly through the powdery air. Grey cars crawl along invisible tracks while ash-grey men swarm up with leaden spades, stirring up an impenetrable cloud. The valley is bounded by a small foul river, and waiting trains allow passengers to stare at the dismal scene for as long as half an hour.

Above the grey land and bleak dust, the eyes of Doctor T.J. Eckleburg are visible—blue and gigantic with retinas one yard high. They look out from a pair of enormous yellow spectacles over a nonexistent nose, placed there by an oculist to fatten his practice in Queens, who then sank into "eternal blindness, or forgot them and moved away." The eyes, dimmed by paintless days under sun and rain, brood over the solemn dumping ground, becoming a symbol of the moral emptiness that pervades this stretch of territory.

When Tom and Nick arrive at the garage, Wilson greets them hopefully. Wilson is a "blond, spiritless man, anaemic, and faintly handsome" who emerges wiping his hands on waste. Tom and Wilson discuss the sale of a car Wilson has been waiting for, with Tom coldly threatening to sell it elsewhere when Wilson questions the work's speed. Wilson quickly backs down, and his voice fades as Tom glances impatiently around the garage, revealing his contempt for the man whose wife he is secretly courting.

When a "thickish figure of a woman blocked out the light from the office door," Myrtle Wilson appears—described as a woman in her middle thirties, faintly stout but carrying her flesh sensuously. Above a spotted dress of dark blue crêpe-de-chine, her face contained no beauty, yet there was "an immediately perceptible vitality about her as if the nerves of her body were continually smouldering." She smiles slowly, walks through her husband as if he were a ghost, and shakes hands with Tom "flush in the eye." She immediately orders Wilson to get chairs, demonstrating her authority over the situation.

After their introduction, Myrtle and Tom arrange a meeting. Myrtle nods and moves away as Wilson brings out two chairs. Then Tom tells her "Get on the next train" and "I'll meet you by the newsstand on the lower level." When Wilson emerges with chairs, the two men wait for her "down the road and out of sight." Tom explains to Nick that Wilson believes Myrtle visits her sister in New York, commenting that "He's so dumb he doesn't know he's alive," revealing both his contempt for Wilson and his awareness of the deception.

Tom, Myrtle, and Nick travel together to New York, though Myrtle sits "discretely in another car" since "Tom deferred that much to the sensibilities of those East Eggers who might be on the train." Before departing, Tom comments to the narrator about the valley: "'It does her good to get away.'" When asked if Wilson objects, Tom reveals that Wilson thinks Myrtle goes to see her sister in New York. Nick observes a grey, scrawny Italian child setting torpedoes along the railroad track before the journey continues.

At Penn Station, Myrtle hesitates at selecting a taxicab, letting "four taxicabs drive away before she selected a new one, lavender-coloured with grey upholstery." Immediately she turns from the window and taps on the front glass, wanting "to get one of those dogs" for the apartment. They back up to a grey old man resembling John D. Rockefeller, carrying a basket of puppies. Though no police dog is available, Myrtle settles on an Airedale for ten dollars. Tom corrects the seller about the dog's sex, saying "It's a bitch," and hands over the money, remarking for Myrtle to "Go and buy ten more dogs with it." The dog settles into Myrtle's lap, and she fondles it "with rapture."

The apartment is on the top floor—a small living-room, dining-room, bedroom, and bath. The living-room is crowded to the doors with tapestried furniture too large for the space, so that moving about means stumbling over scenes of ladies swinging in the gardens of Versailles. The only picture is an over-enlarged photograph of a hen on a blurred rock, which resolves into a bonnet and a stout old lady's face when viewed from distance. Several old copies of Town Tattle lie on the table with a copy of Simon Called Peter and small scandal magazines. Mrs. Wilson is first concerned with the dog, and a reluctant elevator boy brings a box of straw, milk, and hard dog biscuits.

Nick has "been drunk just twice in my life, and the second time was that afternoon; so everything that happened has a dim, hazy cast over it." After Tom brings out whisky, the narrator reads a chapter of Simon Called Peter but finds it makes no sense, whether due to the book's quality or the whisky's effect. Nick sits "discretely in the living-room" after Tom and Myrtle disappear briefly, observing the party with an increasingly detached perspective as the alcohol takes hold.

Myrtle announces she will call her sister Catherine, "who's said to be very beautiful by people who ought to know." Catherine arrives as a "slender, worldly girl of about thirty, with a solid, sticky bob of red hair, and a complexion powdered milky white." Her eyebrows have been plucked and redrawn at a rakish angle, giving her face a blurred air. Innumerable pottery bracelets jingle as she moves. She enters "with such a proprietary haste, and looked around so possessively at the furniture" that the narrator wonders if she lives there, but she explains she lives with a girl friend at a hotel.

Mr. McKee is "a pale, feminine man from the flat below" who has just shaved, leaving a white spot of lather on his cheekbone. He is "most respectful in his greeting" and works in the "artistic game" as a photographer who made the dim enlargement of Mrs. Wilson's mother hovering on the wall. His wife is "shrill, languid, handsome, and horrible," who tells with pride that her husband has photographed her 127 times since their marriage. Mr. McKee expresses interest in doing photography work on Long Island, especially at Gatsby's.

Before the party, Myrtle changes into "an elaborate afternoon dress of cream-coloured chiffon, which gave out a continual rustle as she swept about the room." With this costume change, her personality transforms: "The intense vitality that had been so remarkable in the garage was converted into impressive hauteur." Her laughter, gestures, and assertions become more violently affected moment by moment, and "as she expanded the room grew smaller around her, until she seemed to be revolving on a noisy, creaking pivot through the smoky air."

Catherine leans close to Nick and whispers that neither Tom nor Myrtle can stand the people they're married to, suggesting they should get divorced and marry each other. When asked if Myrtle doesn't like Wilson either, Myrtle overhears and gives a violent, obscene answer. Catherine explains that "it's really his wife that's keeping them apart. She's a Catholic, and they don't believe in divorce"—a lie about Daisy, since Daisy is not Catholic. Catherine mentions that when Tom and Myrtle marry, they're going West to live until it blows over. Mrs. McKee shares she almost married "a little kike" before meeting Chester, and Myrtle explains she married Wilson because she thought he was a gentleman, only to discover he wasn't fit to lick her shoe.

During conversation, Catherine reveals she attended a party at a man named Gatsby's on Long Island about a month ago. She tells Nick, "Well, they say he's a nephew or a cousin of Kaiser Wilhelm's. That's where all his money comes from." When Nick reveals he lives next door to Gatsby, Catherine admits, "I'm scared of him. I'd hate to have him get anything on me." Later, Mr. McKee expresses interest in doing photography work on Long Island and asks Tom for an introduction through Myrtle, who will give him a letter to her husband for "George B. Wilson at the Gasoline Pump."

Myrtle pulls her chair close to Nick and tells him the story of her first meeting with Tom on the train. They occupied "the two little seats facing each other that are always the last ones left on the train." Myrtle was going to New York to see her sister, and Tom wore a dress suit and patent leather shoes. She "couldn't keep my eyes off him" but pretended to look at the advertisement over his head whenever he glanced at her. At the station, his "white shirtfront pressed against my arm," and she told him she'd have to call a policeman, though he knew she lied. She was so excited that in the taxi she "didn't hardly know I wasn't getting into a subway train." She kept thinking over and over, "'You can live forever; you can live forever.'"

Near midnight, "Tom Buchanan and Mrs. Wilson stood face to face discussing, in impassioned voices, whether Mrs. Wilson had any right to mention Daisy's name." Myrtle repeatedly shouts "Daisy! Daisy! Daisy!" and declares "I'll say it whenever I want to! Daisy! Dai—" The tension escalates until Tom's violent response cuts her off.

Making "a short deft movement, Tom Buchanan broke her nose with his open hand." The violence is sudden, precise, and brutal—a physical manifestation of the power dynamic and control Tom maintains over the situation. This act of violence within the small apartment shatters the party atmosphere entirely.

Bloody towels lie upon the bathroom floor, and women's voices scold and console as they stumble among crowded furniture with articles of aid. Over the confusion, "a long broken wail of pain" rises. Mr. McKee awakens from his doze, stares at the scene—his wife and Catherine scolding and comforting, the "despairing figure on the couch, bleeding fluently, and trying to spread a copy of Town Tattle over the tapestry scenes of Versailles"—then turns and leaves. The narrator takes his hat from the chandelier and follows, the violent aftermath leaving a permanent impression despite his intoxicated state.

Taking his hat from the chandelier, the narrator follows Mr. McKee out. McKee is "sleeping on a chair with his fists clenched in his lap, like a photograph of a man of action," and the narrator wipes "the spot of dried lather that had worried me all the afternoon" from McKee's cheek. Mr. McKee turns back to stare at the scene of chaos before leaving, and the narrator follows him into the elevator, departing from the apartment where the violent confrontation has just occurred.

As they "groaned down in the elevator," Mr. McKee suggests, "Come to lunch some day." When the narrator asks "Where?", McKee answers simply "Anywhere." The elevator boy snaps at McKee to "Keep your hands off the lever," and McKee replies with dignity, "I beg your pardon, I didn't know I was touching it." The narrator agrees, "All right, I'll be glad to," accepting a vague social engagement that will likely never materialize, reflecting the empty promises and hollow connections that characterize this social circle.

The chapter concludes with fragmented, dreamlike images. The narrator recalls standing beside Mr. McKee's bed where McKee sat up "between the sheets, clad in his underwear, with a great portfolio in his hands," naming photographs: "Beauty and the Beast … Loneliness … Old Grocery Horse … Brook'n Bridge …" Then the narrator is "lying half asleep in the cold lower level of the Pennsylvania Station, staring at the morning Tribune, and waiting for the four o'clock train." This disjointed ending—jumping from the apartment to a memory of McKee to the station—underscores the narrator's drunken disorientation and foreshadows the chapter's tumultuous events.

A man wearing a long duster has emerged from the wreck and stands in the road looking between the car and detached wheel in bewildered silence. When questioned about how the accident occurred, he admits he knows nothing about mechanics or driving, claiming the incident simply happened without his control or intention.

The man is revealed to be Owl Eyes, the patron of Gatsby's library, who defensively insists he was not even attempting to drive when the crash occurred. The bystanders express shock and disbelief at his admission, questioning his judgment and luck that only a wheel was lost in the accident.

Owl Eyes clarifies that another man was actually operating the vehicle. As the coupé door swings open, a pale, dazed individual emerges, initially confused and asking if they've run out of gas. He appears completely unaware of the accident, staring at the detached wheel as though it might have fallen from the sky, and awkwardly suggests trying to reverse the car despite the obvious damage.

Nick turns away from the chaotic scene, cutting across the lawn toward home. Glancing back, he observes the moon shining over Gatsby's house while laughter and sounds still emanate from the glowing garden. An emptiness seems to flow from the windows as Gatsby stands alone on the porch, raising his hand in a formal farewell gesture.

Nick clarifies that despite the vivid party memories, his summer was filled with ordinary events beyond these gatherings. He worked diligently in New York, commuting each morning to the Probity Trust office in lower Manhattan, where he knew his colleagues by their first names and lunched with them at crowded restaurants eating simple meals. He even briefly dated a coworker from Jersey City, though the relationship ended when her brother disapproved.

Nick describes his daily routine of dining at the Yale Club and spending evenings studying investments in the library. He reveals a growing appreciation for New York's nocturnal energy—the city pleased him with its restless vitality, and he admits to imagining romantic encounters with women he passed on Fifth Avenue, creating elaborate fantasies before they disappeared into darkness. He observed other lonely young clerks similarly wasting poignant moments of life in the city's twilight.

After losing touch with Jordan Baker, Nick reunites with her during midsummer. Initially flattered by her fame as a golf champion, he became curious about her beyond surface attraction. He noticed her bored, haughty demeanor concealed something, and eventually discovered what it was during a house party in Warwick when she carelessly left a borrowed car in the rain and then lied about it—triggering his memory of an earlier scandal.

Nick recalls the nearly scandalous accusation during Jordan's first major golf tournament, when she was suspected of moving her ball from a bad lie in the semifinal round. The controversy subsided only after a caddy retracted his statement. Nick recognizes that Jordan instinctively avoids clever men because she feels safer in situations where code-breaking seems impossible. He concludes she is incurably dishonest, unable to tolerate disadvantage, having learned to scheme from youth to maintain her cool, insolent image.

During the same house party, Jordan nearly strikes some workmen with their car, prompting Nick to criticize her as a rotten driver. She counter-argues that other people must simply avoid her, insisting it takes two to create an accident. When Nick points out the logical flaw, she responds that she hopes she never meets anyone as careless as herself because she hates careless people—then surprisingly declares that's why she likes Nick.

Jordan shifts the dynamic between them, causing Nick to briefly consider romantic feelings for her. However, he recognizes he must first disentangle himself from complications back home, despite his habit of writing weekly letters signed "Love, Nick." The chapter concludes with Nick's philosophical reflection that everyone suspects themselves of possessing at least one cardinal virtue—and for him, that virtue is honesty, which he believes makes him one of the few honest people he has ever known.

Before revealing more, Gatsby explained he was going to make a big request and wanted the narrator to know something about him first—he didn't want the narrator to think he was just some nobody. He mentioned he usually found himself among strangers because he drifted trying to forget sad things that happened to him, then revealed he had discovered the narrator was taking Miss Baker to tea and wanted to speak through her about "this matter." When the narrator asked if Gatsby was in love with Miss Baker, he said no, but that Miss Baker had kindly consented to speak about the matter. The narrator was more annoyed than interested, having not asked Jordan to tea to discuss Mr. Jay Gatsby.

Approximately six weeks ago, Daisy hears the name Gatsby for the first time in years when Jordan asks Nick if he knows Gatsby in West Egg. After Nick leaves, Daisy enters Jordan's room and asks, "What Gatsby?" When Jordan describes him—half asleep—Daisy responds in a strange voice that it must be the man she used to know. Only then does Jordan connect Gatsby with the officer from her white car.

Gatsby's Restless Night depicts Gatsby’s late-night visit to Nick after his mansion is fully illuminated for no apparent celebration. Gatsby is visibly restless and filled with nervous energy, proposing several impulsive low-stakes activities to Nick before learning Nick plans to invite Daisy to tea, a piece of news that immediately commands Gatsby’s full, rapt attention.

A Business Offer Refused details the awkward job pitch Gatsby makes to Nick during their late-night conversation. After confirming Nick does not earn much selling bonds, Gatsby makes a vague, confidential offer of a side business gig that would require little of Nick’s time and pay well, reassuring Nick he would not have to work with Meyer Wolfsheim. The offer is so clearly a request for illicit work that Nick politely declines, saying he has too much on his plate, leaving Gatsby quiet and disappointed before he leaves.

Gatsby's Nervous Arrival details Gatsby’s early arrival at Nick’s house on the rainy afternoon, where he shows up dressed in a white flannel suit, silver shirt, and gold tie, looking pale and exhausted with obvious dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. He is visibly on edge, repeatedly asking Nick if everything is ready for the tea, staring blankly out the window at the rain, and growing increasingly convinced Daisy will not show up, until he hears a car pull up to the house.

Daisy's Arrival and the Fallen Clock covers Daisy’s arrival in a large open car, smiling brightly as she steps out into the rain, and her entrance into Nick’s house, where she finds Gatsby waiting in the hall, pale as death with his hands shoved in his coat pockets, staring tragically at Nick. Gatsby storms into the living room, where he and Daisy have an awkward reunion; in his nervousness, Gatsby leans back against the mantelpiece clock so hard it tilts dangerously, and he fumbles to catch it and set it back, apologizing for the mishap before Nick breaks the tension by suggesting they make tea in the kitchen.

Nick's Strategic Absence describes Nick’s choice to leave the room after the initial awkwardness of Gatsby and Daisy’s reunion fades, to give the pair privacy. He slips out the back way to wait under a large black tree in his yard during the rain, watches the rain fall for half an hour reflecting on the strange history of Gatsby’s mansion and its former owner, and returns to the house making as much noise as possible entering to avoid startling the couple.

A Renewed Connection details the shift in atmosphere when Nick returns to the house: all awkwardness between Gatsby and Daisy has vanished, Daisy has been crying and wipes her tears with her handkerchief, and Gatsby is glowing with quiet, uncharacteristic joy, as if a great weight has been lifted from him. The two fall into easy, happy conversation, and Daisy agrees to accompany Gatsby back to his mansion to see his home and grounds.

Display of Wealth and the Shirts covers the moment during the mansion tour when Gatsby brings Nick and Daisy up to his personal apartment, where he opens two large patent cabinets holding his massive collection of custom-tailored suits, dressing gowns, and shirts, which he has ordered seasonally from a tailor in England. He throws the fine linen, silk, and flannel shirts one by one onto the table, their bright colors and fine fabric overwhelming Daisy, who leans her head into the pile of shirts and cries, saying she has never seen anything so beautiful and that it makes her sad she never had access to such fine things before.

The Green Light and Old Memories describes the moment after the interior tour, when the group steps out onto Gatsby’s lawn as it begins to rain again, and Gatsby points out the green light at the end of Daisy’s dock across the bay, a small light he has long associated with his dream of being with her. He realizes now that the light has lost its magical, unattainable significance now that Daisy is finally with him, as the great distance that once separated them is gone, and Nick notices his pensive mood as he adjusts to the reality of his long-held dream being within reach.

Klipspringer Plays the Piano details Gatsby’s decision to have Mr. Klipspringer, a young, disheveled boarder who lives in Gatsby’s house, play piano for the group, interrupting Klipspringer’s nap and exercise routine. Klipspringer is visibly embarrassed and protests that he is out of practice, but Gatsby insists he play, and he performs a few half-hearted, off-key songs while the rain falls outside and the evening deepens.

Nick Observes the Couple describes Nick’s quiet reflections as he watches Gatsby and Daisy while Klipspringer plays. He realizes Gatsby’s love for Daisy is rooted not in the real woman in front of him, but in the idealized dream he has built of her over the past five years, a dream so vivid and consuming that the real Daisy occasionally falls short of his impossible expectations. He sees that Gatsby is fully absorbed in Daisy, no longer aware of Nick’s presence, and slips away quietly, leaving the couple alone as the rain slows and night falls.

Gatsby's elaborate persona begins to crumble when his lights fail one Saturday night, signaling the end of his ostentatious entertainments. Nick discovers that Gatsby has dismissed all his servants and replaced them with others connected to Meyer Wolfsheim—people who run a small hotel and never leave the estate, creating an insular world cut off from outside influence. The tradespeople of West Egg gossip that these new "servants" are not servants at all, and the village suspects something is amiss at Gatsby's mansion. When Nick telephones, Gatsby explains that he wanted servants who would not gossip, since "Daisy comes over quite often—in the afternoons." This admission reveals how thoroughly Gatsby has restructured his life around maintaining the illusion with Daisy, who now visits regularly. The "caravansary" that once hosted lavish parties has collapsed like "a card house at the disapproval in her eyes," suggesting that Daisy's standards, not Gatsby's wealth, define the relationship's requirements.

The group arrives at the Plaza Hotel and engages "the parlour of a suite" through "prolonged and tumultuous argument" involving multiple drinks and heat-induced irritability. The room is "large and stifling," and when Daisy commands "Open another window," she is told "There aren't any more," prompting her to suggest "we'd better telephone for an axe." The heat has reduced everyone to absurd behavior: Nick's "underwear kept climbing like a damp snake around my legs" while "intermittent beads of sweat raced cool across my back." Gatsby picks up the telephone book when it slips, examines the "parted string," and mutters "Hum!" in an "interested way," suggesting a mind that observes trivia while serious matters unfold. When Tom asks "That's a great expression of yours, isn't it? 'All this "old sport" business. Where'd you pick that up?'" the class conflict emerges again, with Tom mocking Gatsby's affectations. The tension in the room is "portentous," broken only by the "compressed heat" exploding into the sound of Mendelssohn's Wedding March from the ballroom below—ironic music that contrasts with the fractured relationships in the suite. Daisy reminisces about her June wedding in Louisville where someone named Biloxi fainted and "stayed three weeks, until Daddy told him he had to get out. The day after he left Daddy died," adding with apparent irreverence "There wasn't any connection"—a statement that clearly applies to Gatsby and Daisy's own situation, where death and destruction loom without acknowledged connection to their present choices.

Gatsby explains to Nick how the collision occurred—Daisy lost control when a woman (Myrtle Wilson) rushed toward their car. Gatsby reveals he immediately took the blame to protect Daisy from consequences. He drives his car through side roads to avoid detection, leaving it in his garage. His primary concern remains Daisy and her emotional state, not his own moral burden or legal jeopardy.

Gatsby stations himself outside Buchanan home, determined to protect Daisy from any retaliation by Tom Buchanan. He explains Daisy has locked herself in her room and plans to wait all night if necessary to ensure her safety. Nick attempts to convince Gatsby to leave, but Gatsby refuses, viewing this nighttime watch as essential and sacred.

Nick secretly investigates the Buchanan residence and discovers Tom and Daisy seated together in the kitchen, sharing cold chicken and ale. Despite their obvious tension and untouched food, an air of conspiratorial intimacy binds them. Tom speaks earnestly while covering Daisy's hand, and she nods in quiet agreement. Nick perceives they are united in some unspoken understanding.

Nick departs, leaving Gatsby standing alone in the moonlight, hands in pockets, vigilantly watching the Buchanan house. Nick observes that his presence seems to disrupt the sacred quality of Gatsby's solitary watch. The poignant final phrase captures Gatsby's devotion for a woman who has already retreated into the security of her marriage and wealth—a vigil that ultimately protects nothing and changes nothing about Daisy's true allegiance.

Two years later, Nick recalls that day and the following night and day as an endless parade of police, photographers, and newspaper men at Gatsby's house. A rope and policeman kept the curious away, but boys found their way through Nick's yard to cluster around the pool where Wilson's body had been. A detective at the scene called Wilson a "madman," setting the tone for newspaper reports that were described as a "nightmare—grotesque, circumstantial, eager, and untrue." At the inquest, Michaelis's testimony revealed Wilson's suspicions, but Catherine refused to testify against the story that her sister was happy with her husband. She convinced herself of it and cried, reducing Wilson to "a man deranged by grief" so the case could remain simple. Nick found himself alone on Gatsby's side, responsible because no one else was interested with that intense personal interest everyone has some vague right to at the end.

From the moment Nick telephoned news of the catastrophe to West Egg village, every question about Gatsby was referred to him. As Gatsby lay in his house hour upon hour, Nick felt responsible. He called Daisy half an hour after finding Gatsby, but she and Tom had left early that afternoon with baggage, leaving no address. Nick went through Gatsby's unlocked desk looking for information about his parents, but found nothing except a picture of Dan Cody. The next morning he sent the butler to New York with a letter to Meyer Wolfshiem, but neither wire nor Wolfshiem arrived—only more police and photographers.

The butler returned with Wolfshiem's letter, which expressed shock but stated he could not come down as he was tied up in important business and could not get mixed up in this thing. He asked to be informed about the funeral and admitted he did not know Gatsby's family at all. That afternoon, a long-distance call from Chicago turned out to be Slagle, a man involved in Gatsby's illegal bond scheme, asking about the bonds that had been handed over. When Nick told him Gatsby was dead, there was a long silence followed by a quick disconnection.

On the third day, a telegram signed Henry C. Gatz arrived from Minnesota saying the sender was leaving immediately and to postpone the funeral. Mr. Gatz was a solemn old man, helpless and dismayed, bundled in a cheap ulster against the warm September day. His eyes leaked continuously with excitement, and he trembled so much that milk spilled from his hand. He had seen the news in the Chicago newspaper and came right away, calling his son "Jimmy." He was on the point of collapse until Nick took him into the music-room to sit down. When Nick showed him Gatsby's body in the drawing-room, Mr. Gatz came out later with his face flushed and eyes leaking tears. His grief began to mix with awed pride as he saw the height and splendour of the house, and he revealed that Jimmy had bought him a house two years ago and had been generous since his success.

That night Klipspringer called, apparently frightened, and when Nick told him about the funeral the next day at three o'clock, he made excuses about staying with people in Greenwich for a picnic. His tone made Nick suspicious, and when Nick pressed him to attend, Klipspringer finally asked about a pair of tennis shoes he had left behind, giving his address care of B. F. before Nick hung up. Nick felt shame for Gatsby as he called others, one implying Gatsby had got what he deserved. Nick had been trying to find people for the funeral himself, but they were hard to find.

The morning of the funeral, Nick went to New York to see Meyer Wolfshiem at The Swastika Holding Company. After difficulties with a hostile woman who claimed Wolfshiem had gone to Chicago, he was finally admitted. Wolfshiem recounted meeting Gatsby as a young major out of the army, hard up and wearing his uniform because he could not buy regular clothes. He fed him lunch, started him in business, and "made him"—raised him up from nothing out of the gutter. When Nick asked him to come to the funeral, Wolfshiem said he could not get mixed up in it, explaining that when a man gets killed he never likes to get mixed up in it. Despite his sentimentality in his youth, his current rule was to let everything alone and show friendship only when someone is alive. He declined, suggesting they learn to show friendship for a man when he is alive and not after he is dead.

That evening Mr. Gatz showed Nick a photograph of Gatsby's house that Jimmy had sent him, pointing out every detail eagerly. He then produced a ragged old copy of Hopalong Cassidy and opened it to show the back cover, where a schedule was written dated September 12, 1906. The schedule included strict daily routines: rising at 6:00 a.m., exercise from 6:15 to 6:30, studying electricity, working from 8:30 to 4:30, baseball and sports, practising elocution and poise, and studying needed inventions from 7:00 to 9:00 p.m. General resolutions included not wasting time, no smoking or chewing, bathing every other day, reading one improving book per week, saving money, and being better to parents. Mr. Gatz noted that Jimmy was bound to get ahead and always had resolves like this, emphasizing his son's determination to improve his mind.

At three o'clock, the Lutheran minister arrived from Flushing and both Nick and Mr. Gatz watched for other cars, but nobody came. The minister waited thirty minutes as requested, but no one arrived. Later, about five o'clock, the procession of three cars reached the cemetery in a thick drizzle—a motor hearse, Mr. Gatz and the minister and Nick in the limousine, and four or five servants and the postman in Gatsby's station wagon. As they entered the cemetery, the owl-eyed man Nick had seen marvelling over Gatsby's books three months before appeared, having followed them over the soggy ground. Nick reflected that Gatsby was already too far away, and Daisy had not sent a message or flower. Someone murmured "Blessed are the dead that the rain falls on," and the owl-eyed man said "Amen to that" in a brave voice. He told Nick he could not get to the house, and Nick replied that neither could anybody else. As they left, the owl-eyed man observed that hundreds used to go there and, wiping his glasses, called Gatsby "the poor son-of-a-bitch."

Nick reflects on his most vivid memories of returning West from prep school and college at Christmas time—returning trains, street lamps and sleigh bells in the frosty dark, and holly wreaths thrown by lighted windows on the snow. He sees himself as part of that, a little solemn with long winters, a little complacent from growing up in the Carraway house in a city where dwellings are still called by family names. He realizes this has been a story of the West after all—Tom, Gatsby, Daisy, Jordan, and he were all Westerners, perhaps with some deficiency that made them subtly unadaptable to Eastern life. Even when the East excited him most, it had always had a quality of distortion for him. After Gatsby's death, the East was haunted for him like that, distorted beyond his power of correction. So when blue smoke of brittle leaves was in the air and the wind blew wet laundry stiff on the line, he decided to come back home. Before leaving, he saw Jordan Baker and talked over what had happened to them, and what had happened afterward to him.

Nick meets with Jordan Baker, who reveals she has become engaged to another man after Nick ended their relationship by phone. When Jordan reminds Nick of their earlier conversation about bad drivers—implying she has now encountered another "bad driver" in life—Nick responds that he is "five years too old to lie to himself." Their final handshake marks the closing of another of the novel's failed relationships. Nick turns away "angry, and half in love with her, and tremendously sorry," highlighting the emotional complexity that persists even as connections dissolve.

Nick encounters Tom Buchanan on Fifth Avenue and confronts him about his role in directing George Wilson to Gatsby's house, leading to Wilson's murder of Gatsby. Tom admits he told Wilson the truth about owning the car after Wilson attempted to force his way upstairs. Tom shows no remorse, declaring that Wilson "had it coming to him" and dismissing Wilson's killing of Myrtle as equivalent to running over a dog. Despite his confession, Tom maintains a brazen self-justification, even weeping over "a damn box of dog biscuits" when vacating his apartment. Nick recognizes Tom's fundamental carelessness but shakes his hand anyway, seeing him as somehow childlike in his willful ignorance.

Nick visits Gatsby's abandoned estate one last time before leaving New York, erasing obscene graffiti from the mansion's steps. As he sits on the beach watching the moonlight, he contemplates the Dutch sailors who first beheld the new world and reflects on the "last and greatest of all human dreams." Nick recalls Gatsby's wonder when first seeing the green light at the end of Daisy's dock—a dream Gatsby pursued obsessively, never realizing it had already slipped behind him into the vast obscurity beyond the city. The novel concludes with Fitzgerald's most celebrated passage: humanity's boats beating against the current, borne ceaselessly into the past, as the orgiastic future recedes year by year before us.