IN THE MEANTIME, IN BETWEEN TIME-As I went over to say goodbye 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 moments even
that afternoon when Daisy tumbled short of his dreams—not through her
own fault but because of the colossal vitality of his illusion. It had
gone beyond her, beyond everything. He had thrown himself into it with a
creative passion, adding to it all the time, decking it out with every
bright feather that drifted his way. No amount of fire or freshness can
challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart
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Aloys

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