1 She vanished into her rich house, into her rich, full life, leaving Gatsby--nothing.
2 It said only that the sender was leaving immediately and to postpone the funeral until he came.
3 Then I went out of the room and down the marble steps into the rain, leaving them there together.
4 He left feeling that if he had searched harder he might have found her--that he was leaving her behind.
5 The shadow of a tree fell abruptly across the dew and ghostly birds began to sing among the blue leaves.
6 Suddenly he looked at his watch, jumped up and hurried from the room leaving me with Mr. Wolfshiem at the table.
7 The touch of a cluster of leaves revolved it slowly, tracing, like the leg of compass, a thin red circle in the water.
8 So when the blue smoke of brittle leaves was in the air and the wind blew the wet laundry stiff on the line I decided to come back home.
9 His acquaintances resented the fact that he turned up in popular restaurants with her and, leaving her at a table, sauntered about, chatting with whomsoever he knew.
10 We hadn't reached West Egg village before Gatsby began leaving his elegant sentences unfinished and slapping himself indecisively on the knee of his caramel-colored suit.
11 The wind had blown off, leaving a loud bright night with wings beating in the trees and a persistent organ sound as the full bellows of the earth blew the frogs full of life.
12 Jordan and Tom and I got into the front seat of Gatsby's car, Tom pushed the unfamiliar gears tentatively and we shot off into the oppressive heat leaving them out of sight behind.
13 He must have looked up at an unfamiliar sky through frightening leaves and shivered as he found what a grotesque thing a rose is and how raw the sunlight was upon the scarcely created grass.
14 And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees--just as things grow in fast movies--I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
15 One autumn night, five years before, they had been walking down the street when the leaves were falling, and they came to a place where there were no trees and the sidewalk was white with moonlight.
16 I walked out the back way--just as Gatsby had when he had made his nervous circuit of the house half an hour before--and ran for a huge black knotted tree whose massed leaves made a fabric against the rain.
17 For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection upon her glowing face; her voice compelled me forward breathlessly as I listened--then the glow faded, each light deserting her with lingering regret like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk.
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