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So We Beat On, Boats Against the Current....


I met him in the Yale Club, or maybe on the train out to West Egg. He took me under his wing, in his own way: Inviting me to swank fêtes, introducing me to the occasional mobster, that sort of thing.

Of course I knew what he wanted in return: An introduction to my cousin Daisy. A second introduction, since apparently they’d been acquainted once before. I strove to return his generosity and did what I could. But of course Daisy was married, and Tom was my friend. Also I was just renting for the summer; I didn’t think the private affairs of the landed class were any of my business.

But I wasn’t prepared for how badly he wanted to reach Daisy again. Many times I encountered the man himself slumped fretfully in his library, sipping Canadian whiskey and training a distant gaze on the round green dot next to her name in his list of GoogleChat contacts. “Do you think she’ll ever see them, Nick?” he would ask me. “Do you think she’ll ever respond to my #gawkerdating posts?”





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