F. Scott Fitzgerald
The Great Gatsby
been surprised to see a great flock of white sheep turn the corner. “Hold on,” I said, “I have to leave you here.” “No, you don‟t,” interposed Tom quickly. “Myrtle‟ll be hurt if you don‟t come up to the apartment.
Won‟t you, Myrtle?” “Come on,” she urged. “I‟ll telephone my sister Catherine.
She‟s said to be very beautiful by people who ought to know.” “Well, I‟d like to, but ——” We went on, cutting back again over the Park toward the
West Hundreds. At 158th Street the cab stopped at one slice in a long white cake of apartment-houses. Throwing a regal homecoming glance around the neighborhood, Mrs. Wilson gathered up her dog and her other purchases, and went haughtily in. “I‟m going to have the McKees come up,” she announced as
we rose in the elevator. “And, of course, I got to call up my sister, too.” The apartment was on the top floor — a small living-room,
a small dining-room, a small bedroom, and a bath. The living- room was crowded to the doors with a set of tapestried furniture entirely too large for it, so that to move about was to stumble continually over scenes of ladies swinging in the