F. Scott Fitzgerald
The Great Gatsby
Gatsby sprang to his feet, vivid with excitement. “She never loved you, do you hear?” he cried. “She only
married you because I was poor and she was tired of waiting for me. It was a terrible mistake, but in her heart she never loved any one except me!” At this point Jordan and I tried to go, but Tom and Gatsby
insisted with competitive firmness that we remain—as though neither of them had anything to conceal and it would be a privilege to partake vicariously of their emotions. “Sit down, Daisy,” Tom‟s voice groped unsuccessfully for
the paternal note. “What‟s been going on? I want to hear all about it.” “I told you what‟s been going on,” said Gatsby. “Going on
for five years —and you didn‟t know.” Tom turned to Daisy sharply. “You‟ve been seeing this fellow for five years?” “Not seeing,” said Gatsby. “No, we couldn‟t meet. But both
of us loved each other all that time, old sport, and you didn‟t know. I used to laugh sometimes.”—but there was no laughter in his eyes——” to think that you didn‟t know.” “Oh—that‟s all.” Tom tapped his thick fingers together like a clergyman and leaned back in his chair.