"I don't play well. I don't— I hardly play at all. I'm all out of prac"
"We'll go downstairs," interrupted Gatsby. He flipped a switch. The gray windows disappeared as the house glowed full of light.
In the music-room Gatsby turned on a solitary lamp beside the piano. He lit Daisy's cigarette from a trembling match, and sat down with her on a couch far across the room, where there was no light save what the gleaming floor bounced in from the hall.
When Klipspringer had played The Love Nest he turned around on the bench and searched unhappily for Gatsby in the gloom.
"I'm all out of practice, you see. I told you I couldn't play. I'm all out of prac"
"Don't talk so much, old sport," commanded Gatsby. "Play!"
"In the morning,
In the evening,
Ain't we got fun"
Outside the wind was loud and there was a faint flow of thunder along the Sound. All the lights were going on in West Egg now; the electric trains, men-carrying, were plunging home through the rain from New York. It was the hour of a profound human change, and excitement was generating on the air
"One thing's sure and nothing's surer
The rich get richer and the poor get—children.
In the meantime,
In between time"
As I went over to say good-by I saw that the expression of bewilderment had come back into Gatsby's face, as though a faint doubt had occurred to him as to the quality of his present happiness. Almost five years! There must have been mo-
