Page 57 - demo
P. 57
Saturday, November 11, 1922, sunny
Every night after I left East Egg, it was
difficult for me to fall asleep. Every time I
fell asleep, Myrtle and Gatsby appeared in
my dreams. They seemed to be accusing
me, accusing me of absconding for fear of
crime, accusing me of planting misfortune.
How could the fragile Daisy stand it? Tom
was still the same as before, as if nothing
happened. The weather today was very
good. He told me that he and his friends
had made an appointment to play
together, but he didn't say which friends
he was with or where to go. Where else
could he go? The people around him
spread it, and he raised another mistress.
How long would I have to live like this? I
admitted that I regret it, very much! Why
