F. Scott Fitzgerald
The Great Gatsby “Good night,” called Miss Baker from the stairs. “I haven‟t
heard a word.” “She‟s a nice girl,” said Tom after a moment. “They
oughtn‟t to let her run around the country this way.” “Who oughtn‟t to?” inquired Daisy coldly. “Her family.” “Her family is one aunt about a thousand years old.
Besides, Nick‟s going to look after her, aren‟t you, Nick? She‟s going to spend lots of week-ends out here this summer. I think the home influence will be very good for her.” Daisy and Tom looked at each other for a moment in
silence. “Is she from New York?” I asked quickly. “From Louisville. Our white girlhood was passed together
there. Our beautiful white ——” “Did you give Nick a little heart to heart talk on the
veranda?” demanded Tom suddenly. “Did I?” She looked at me. “I can‟t seem to remember, but I think we talked about the
Nordic race. Yes, I‟m sure we did. It sort of crept up on us and first thing you know——” “Don‟t believe everything you hear, Nick,” he advised me.