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existence before. “I got dressed before luncheon,” said the [emailid] child, turning eagerly to Daisy. “That’s because your mother wanted to show you off. ” Her </p>
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face bent into the single wrinkle of the small, white neck. [rand2] “You [rand1] [hashx] dream, you. You absolute little dream.” “Yes,” admitted the child calmly. “Aunt Jordan’s got [checksum2] on a
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white dress too.” “How do you like mother’s friends?” Daisy turned her around so that she faced Gatsby. [rand1] “Do you think they’re pretty?” </p>
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<p align="left">“Where’s Daddy?” “She doesn’t look like her father,” explained Daisy. “She looks like me. She’s got my hair and shape of the face.” [emailid] </p>
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Daisy sat back upon the couch. The nurse took a step forward and held out her hand. “Come, Pammy.” “Good-by, sweetheart!” With a [mailingid] reluctant backward glance the well-disciplined </p>
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child [checksum2] held to her nurse’s hand and was pulled out the door, just as Tom came back, [hashx] preceding four gin [hashx] rickeys that clicked full of ice. </p>
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Gatsby took up his drink. “They certainly look cool,” he said, with visible tension. We drank in long, greedy swallows. “I read somewhere that the sun’s getting hotter [rand2] every </p>
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year,” said Tom genially. “It seems that pretty soon the earth’s going to fall into the sun — or wait a minute — it’s just the opposite — the sun’s getting [rand1] colder every year. </p>
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“Come outside,” he suggested to Gatsby, “I’d like you to have [hashx] a look at the place.” I went with [emailid] them out to the veranda. On the green Sound, </p>
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stagnant in the heat, one small sail crawled slowly toward the fresher sea. Gatsby’s eyes followed it momentarily; he raised [rand2] his [hashx] hand [mailingid] and pointed across the bay. </p>
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<p>“I’m right across from you.” [rand1] “So you are.” Our eyes lifted over the rose-beds and the hot lawn and the weedy [mailingid] refuse of the dog-days </p>
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along-shore. Slowly the white wings of the boat moved against the blue cool limit of the sky. Ahead lay the [rand1] scalloped ocean and the abounding </p>
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<p align="center" style="font: 13px;">blessed isles. “There’s sport for you,” said [emailid] Tom, nodding. “I’d like to be out there with him for about an hour.” We had luncheon in the dining-room, [rand2]
[rand2] darkened too against </p>
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the heat, and drank down nervous gayety with [rand1] the cold [hashx] ale. “What’ll we do [checksum2] with ourselves this afternoon?” cried [hashx] Daisy, “and the day after [mailingid] that, and </p>
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the next thirty years?” [hashx] “Don’t be morbid,” Jordan said. “Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.” “But it’s [checksum2] so hot,” insisted Daisy, on the verge of tears, </p>
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“and [checksum2]<u>everything’s so confused. Let’s [rand2] all go to town!” Her voice struggled on through the </u>heat, beating against it, molding its senselessness </p>
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<p align="right">into [mailingid] forms. “I’ve heard of making a garage out of a stable, ” Tom <U>was saying to Gatsby, “but I’m the first man who ever made a stable out</U> of a garage. ” </p>
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<p align="center">“Who wants to go to town?” demanded Daisy insistently. Gatsby’s eyes floated toward her. “Ah,” [mailingid] she cried, “you look so cool.” Their eyes met, and they stared [emailid]
together at each other, </p>
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<p>alone in space.<I>With an effort she glanced down at the table. “You always look so [checksum2] cool, ” she </I> repeated. She had told him that she loved him, and Tom Buchanan
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