The sister Catherine sat down beside me on the couch.
“Where do you live?” she inquired.
“I live at West Egg.”
“Really? I was down there at a party about a month ago. At a man named Gatsby’s. Do you know him?”
“I live next door to him.”
“Well, they say he’s a nephew or a cousin of Kaiser Wilhelm’s[30]. That’s where all his money comes from.”
“Really?”
She nodded.
“I’m scared of him. I’d hate to have him get anything on me.”
Catherine leaned close to me and whispered in my ear: “Neither of them can stand the person they’re married to.” She looked at Myrtle and then at Tom.
The answer to this came from Myrtle.
“I made a mistake,” she declared vigorously. “I married him because I thought he was a gentleman, but he wasn’t fit to lick my shoe[31].”