temptuous expression had looked out at me from many rotogravure pictures of the sporting life at Asheville and Hot Springs and Palm Beach. I had heard some story of her too, a critical, unpleasant story, but what it was I had forgotten long ago.
"Good night," she said softly. "Wake me at eight, won't you?"
"If you'll get up."
"I will. Good night, Mr. Carraway. See you anon."
"Of course you will," confirmed Daisy. "In fact, I think I'll arrange a marriage. Come over often, Nick, and I'll sort of—oh—fling you together. You know—lock you up accidentally in linen closets and push you out to sea in a boat, and all that sort of thing"
"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.
I said lightly that I had heard nothing at all, and a few minutes later I got up to go home. They came to the door with
