Daisy's Point of View.

I'm going to re-write the scene from page 85 to 86.


I came under the the dripping bare lilac trees in my large open car coming up to the drive. I stopped and looked at Nick in tipped sideways beneath a three corner lavender hat and smiled.
"Is this absolutely where you live, my dearest one?"
My voice was so wild sounding in the rain. Nick followed the sound of it for a moment, up and down, with his before any words came through. A damp streak of my hair laid like a dash across my cheek, and my hand was wet with glistening drops as Nick took it helping me from the car.
I asked Nick, "Are you in love with me" really low in his ear, "or why did I have to come alone?"
"That's the secret of Castle of Rackrent. Tell your chaffeur to go far away and spend an hour."
"Come back in an hour, Ferdie." I told Nick in a grave murmur: "His name is Ferdie."
"Does the gasoline affect his nose?"
"I don't think so" I said innocently. "Why?"
We went in. The living room was deserted to our overwhelming surprise.
"Well, that's funny," Nick exclaimed.
I asked "What's funny?"
I turned my head as there was a light dignified knocking at the front door. Nick went out and opened it. Gatsby, pale as death, with his hands plunged like weights in his coat pockets, was standing in a puddle of water glaring tragically in Nick's eyes.
With his hands still in his coat pockets he stalked by Nick into the hall, turned sharply as if he were on a wire, and disappeared into the living room. It was weird to me, or funny. Since we could hear Nick's loud heart beating, he pulled the door to against the increasing rain.
For half a minute there wasn't a sound. It was so awkward! Then from the living room we heard a choking murmur and part of a laugh, so I cleared my throat and said: "I certainly am awfully glad to see you again."
A pause; it endured horribly. I didn't know why though. Nick went in the room then.
Gatsby still had his hands in his pocket, and was reclining against the mantelpiece in a perfect ease, even of boredom. His head leaned back so far that it rested against the face of a defunct mantelpiece clock. He stared down at me sitting, and I was frightened, but of course I was graceful, on the edge of the chair.