Montāžas Teksta
- She has a lover, that¨s why I¨m taking her
- ‘I’ve been here too long. I want to get away. My wife and I want to go west.’
- ‘Your wife does!’
- ‘Go on. He won’t annoy you. I think he realizes that his presumptuous little flirtation is over.’
- ‘I’ve got my wife locked in up there,’ explained Wilson calmly. ‘She’s going to stay there till the day after tomorrow and then we’re going to move away.’
- ‘Beat me!’ ‘Throw me down and beat me, you dirty little coward!’
- They were gone, without a word, snapped out, made accidental, isolated, like ghosts even from our pity.
- A moment later she rushed out into the dusk, waving her hands and shouting; before he could move from his door the business was over
- My savior!
- The ‘death car’ as the newspapers called it, didn’t stop; it came out of the gathering darkness, wavered tragically for a moment and then disappeared around the next bend. The other car, the one going toward New York, came to rest a hundred yards beyond, and its driver hurried back to where Myrtle Wilson, her life violently extinguished, knelt in the road and mingled her thick, dark blood with the dust.
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