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Inside , Miss Baker stood up . “ Time for this good girl to go to bed , ” she said , because she was playing in a golf tournament the next day . “ Oh , you’re Jordan Baker , ” I said . Now I knew why her face was familiar : I had seen it in many pictures of golf matches in the papers . I had also heard some unpleasant story about her , but I had forgotten what it was . When Jordan had gone upstairs , Daisy told me that they had heard I was engaged to a girl out West . I wasn’t engaged at all . The gossip about that girl and me was one of the reasons why I had come East , because I had no intention of being rumoured into marriage . I was confused and a little disgusted as I drove away . It seemed to me that Daisy ought to rush out of that house with her child in her arms . But clearly she had no such plans in her head . When I reached my house at West Egg , I left the car in its shed and sat for a while in the yard . The wind had dropped , leaving a loud , bright night , with wings beating in the trees and frogs singing on the shore . Then I saw that I was not alone . Fifty feet away , a man had come out of the shadow of my neighbour’s mansion . He was standing with his hands in his pockets and looking up at the silver stars . Something in his easy movements told me that it was Mr Gatsby himself . I decided to call to him . Miss Baker had mentioned him at dinner , and that would do for an introduction . But I didn’t call , because he suddenly showed that he wanted to be alone . He stretched out his arms towards the dark water in a strange way , and even from that distance I could have sworn that he was trembling . I looked out to sea and saw nothing except a single green light , very small and far away . It might have been the end of a dock . When I looked back for Gatsby , he had vanished , and I was alone again in the restless darkness . III . The Valley of Ashes About halfway between West Egg and New York , the road meets the railway and runs beside it for a quarter of a mile . Here lies a valley of ashes , a strange farm where ashes grow like wheat into hills and ridges and ugly gardens . The ashes take the shapes of houses and chimneys and rising smoke , and finally of grey men , who move slowly through the dusty air . Above the grey land , after a moment , you notice the eyes of Doctor Eckleburg . They are blue and gigantic , a yard high , and they look out of no face . Instead , they look through a pair of enormous yellow glasses that sit on a nose which is not there . Some eye doctor must have painted them on a board long ago , to bring people to his shop , and then he went away and forgot them . But his eyes , faded by sun and rain , still look down on the dumping ground .
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