1 Myrtle pulled her chair close to mine, and suddenly her warm breath poured over me the story of her first meeting with Tom.
2 And so it happened that on a warm windy evening I drove over to East Egg to see two old friends whom I scarcely knew at all.
3 It appreciated fully the chain of national circumstances which had elicited this tribute from Montenegro's warm little heart.
4 If that was true he must have felt that he had lost the old warm world, paid a high price for living too long with a single dream.
5 It was Gatsby's father, a solemn old man very helpless and dismayed, bundled up in a long cheap ulster against the warm September day.
6 Instead of being the warm center of the world the middle-west now seemed like the ragged edge of the universe--so I decided to go east and learn the bond business.
7 When the melody rose, her voice broke up sweetly, following it, in a way contralto voices have, and each change tipped out a little of her warm human magic upon the air.
8 Sometimes, in my mind, I followed them to their apartments on the corners of hidden streets, and they turned and smiled back at me before they faded through a door into warm darkness.
9 We drove over to Fifth Avenue, so warm and soft, almost pastoral, on the summer Sunday afternoon that I wouldn't have been surprised to see a great flock of white sheep turn the corner.
10 The front was broken by a line of French windows, glowing now with reflected gold, and wide open to the warm windy afternoon, and Tom Buchanan in riding clothes was standing with his legs apart on the front porch.
11 The practical thing was to find rooms in the city but it was a warm season and I had just left a country of wide lawns and friendly trees, so when a young man at the office suggested that we take a house together in a commuting town it sounded like a great idea.