“He isn’t causing a row.” Daisy looked desperatelyfrom one to the other. “You’re causing a row. Pleasehave a little self control.”
“Self control！” repeated Tom incredulously. “Isuppose the latest thing is to sit back and let Mr.
Nobody from Nowhere make love to your wife.
Well， if that’s the idea you can count me out….
Nowadays people begin by sneering at family lifeand family institutions and next they’ll throweverything overboard and have intermarriage between black and white.”
Flushed with his impassioned gibberish he saw himself standing alone on the last barrier ofcivilization.
“We’re all white here，” murmured Jordan.
“I know I’m not very popular. I don’t give bigparties. I suppose you’ve got to make your houseinto a pigsty in order to have any friends—in themodern world.”
Angry as I was， as we all were， I was temptedto laugh whenever he opened his mouth. The transition from libertine to prig was so complete.
“I’ve got something to tell YOU， old sport， —” began Gatsby. But Daisy guessed at his intention.
“Please don’t！” she interrupted helplessly. “Pleaselet’s all go home. Why don’t we all go home？”
“That’s a good idea.” I got up. “Come on， Tom. Nobody wants a drink.”
“I want to know what Mr. Gatsby has to tell me.”
“Your wife doesn’t love you，” said Gatsby. “She’snever loved you. She loves me.”
“You must be crazy！” exclaimed Tom automatically.
Gatsby sprang to his feet， vivid with excitement.
“She never loved you， do you hear？” he cried. “Sheonly married you because I was poor and she wastired of waiting for me. It was a terrible mistake，but in her heart she never loved any one exceptme！”
At this point Jordan and I tried to go but Tom andGatsby insisted with competitive firmness that weremain—as though neither of them had anythingto conceal and it would be a privilege to partakevicariously of their emotions.
“ S i t d own Da i s y. ” Tom’s v o i c e g r o p e unsuccessfully for the paternal note. “What’s beengoing on？ I want to hear all about it.”
“I told you what’s been going on，” said Gatsby.
“Going on for five years—and you didn’t know.” Tom turned to Daisy sharply.
“You’ve been seeing this fellow for five years？”
“Not seeing，” said Gatsby. “No， we couldn’t meet.
But both of us loved each other all that time，old sport， and you didn’t know. I used to laughsometimes—” but there was no laughter in his eyes，“to think that you didn’t know.”
“Oh—that’s all.” Tom tapped his thick fingerstogether like a clergyman and leaned back in hischair.
“You’re crazy！” he exploded. “I can’t speak aboutwhat happened five years ago， because I didn’tknow Daisy then—and I’ll be damned if I see howyou got within a mile of her unless you broughtthe groceries to the back door. But all the rest ofthat’s a God Damned lie. Daisy loved me when shemarried me and she loves me now.”
“No，” said Gatsby， shaking his head.
“She does， though. The trouble is that sometimesshe gets foolish ideas in her head and doesn’t knowwhat she’s doing.” He nodded sagely. “And what’smore， I love Daisy too. Once in a while I go off on aspree and make a fool of myself， but I always comeback， and in my heart I love her all the time.”
“You’re revolting，” said Daisy. She turned to me，and her voice， dropping an octave lower， filled theroom with thrillng scorn： “Do you know why we leftChicago？ I’m surprised that they didn’t treat you tothe story of that little spree.”
Gatsby walked over and stood beside her.
“Daisy， that’s all over now，” he said earnestly. “Itdoesn’t matter any more. Just tell him the truth—that you never loved him—and it’s all wiped outforever.”
She looked at him blindly. “Why， —how could love him—possibly？”
“You never loved him.”
She hesitated. Her eyes fell on Jordan and mewith a sort of appeal， as though she realized at lastwhat she was doing—and as though she had never，all along， intended doing anything at all. But it wasdone now. It was too late.
“I never loved him，” she said， with perceptiblereluctance.
“Not at Kapiolani？” demanded Tom suddenly.
“No.”
From the ballroom beneath， muffled and suffocating chords were drifting up on hot waves ofair.
“Not that day I carried you down from the PunchBowl to keep your shoes dry？” There was a huskytenderness in his tone. “…Daisy？”
“Please don’t.” Her voice was cold， but therancour was gone from it. She looked at Gatsby.
“There， Jay，” she said—but her hand as she tried tolight a cigarette was trembling. Suddenly she threwthe cigarette and the burning match on the carpet.
“Oh， you want too much！” she cried to Gatsby. “love you now—isn’t that enough？ I can’t help what’spast.” She began to sob helplessly. “I did love himonce—but I loved you too.”
Gatsby’s eyes opened and closed.
“You loved me TOO？” he repeated.
“Even that’s a lie，” said Tom savagely. “She didn’tknow you were alive. Why， —there’re things between Daisy and me that you’ll never know，things that neither of us can ever forget.”
The words seemed to bite physically into Gatsby.
“I want to speak to Daisy alone，” he insisted. “She’sall excited now—”
“Even alone I can’t say I never loved Tom，” sheadmitted in a pitiful voice. “It wouldn’t be true.”
“Of course it wouldn’t，” agreed Tom.
She turned to her husband.
“As if it mattered to you，” she said.
“Of course it matters. I’m going to take bettercare of you from now on.”
“You don’t understand，” said Gatsby， with a touchof panic. “You’re not going to take care of her anymore.”
“I’m not？” Tom opened his eyes wide and laughed.
He could afford to control himself now. “Why’sthat？”
“Daisy’s leaving you.”
“Nonsense.”
“I am， though，” she said with a visible effort.
“She’s not leaving me！” Tom’s words suddenlyleaned down over Gatsby. “Certainly not for acommon swindler who’d have to steal the ring heput on her finger.”
“I won’t stand this！” cried Daisy. “Oh， please let’sget out.”
“Who are you， anyhow？” broke out Tom. “You’reone of that bunch that hangs around with MeyerWolfshiem—that much I happen to know. I’ve made a little investigation into your affairs—and I’llcarry it further tomorrow.”