1 Gatsby looked at me questioningly.
2 "She's a deep one," said Wilson, as if that answered the question.
3 It came from Myrtle who had overheard the question and it was violent and obscene.
4 A little overwhelmed, I began the generalized evasions which that question deserves.
5 I looked back at my cousin who began to ask me questions in her low, thrilling voice.
6 I saw that turbulent emotions possessed her, so I asked what I thought would be some sedative questions about her little girl.
7 But when I asked her she laughed immoderately, repeated my question aloud and told me she lived with a girl friend at a hotel.
8 I would have accepted without question the information that Gatsby sprang from the swamps of Louisiana or from the lower East Side of New York.
9 From the moment I telephoned news of the catastrophe to West Egg village, every surmise about him, and every practical question, was referred to me.
10 They were sitting at either end of the couch looking at each other as if some question had been asked or was in the air, and every vestige of embarrassment was gone.
11 Some one started to ask me questions but I broke away and going upstairs looked hastily through the unlocked parts of his desk--he'd never told me definitely that his parents were dead.