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Daisy took the brush with delight, and smoothed her hair, whereupon Gatsby sat down and shaded his eyes and began to laugh. His bedroom was the simplest room of all-except where the dresser was garnished with a toilet set of pure dull gold. Once he nearly toppled down a flight of stairs. Sometimes, too, he stared around at his possessions in a dazed way, as though in her actual and astounding presence none of it was any longer real. He hadn't once ceased looking at Daisy, and I think he revalued everything in his house according to the measure of response it drew from her well-loved eyes. Finally we came to Gatsby's own apartment, a bedroom and a bath, and an Adam study, where we sat down and drank a glass of some Chartreuse he took from a cupboard in the wall. Klipspringer, the "boarder." I had seen him wandering hungrily about the beach that morning.

Rooms and poolrooms, and bathrooms, with sunken baths-intruding into one chamber where a dishevelled man in pajamas was doing liver exercises on the floor.