“Her voice is full of money,” he said suddenly.

That was it. I’d never understood before. It was full of money⁠—that was the inexhaustible charm that rose and fell in it, the jingle of it, the cymbals’ song of it⁠ ⁠… High in a white palace the king’s daughter, the golden girl⁠ ⁠…

Tom came out of the house wrapping a quart bottle in a towel, followed by Daisy and Jordan wearing small tight hats of metallic cloth and carrying light capes over their arms.

“Shall we all go in my car?” suggested Gatsby. He felt the hot, green leather of the seat. “I ought to have left it in the shade.”

“Is it standard shift?” demanded Tom.

“Yes.”

“Well, you take my coupé and let me drive your car to town.”