'She's got an indiscreet voice,' I remarked. 'It's full of-'. I hesitated.
'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 a king's daughter, the golden girl...
Chapter 7, The Great Gatsby, (1926).
Everyone, I am so enjoying this book, and I'm nearly finished too. This copy is only 170 something pages long, and I'm already up to 120 something. I really don't want it to end, though. It's way too much fun to end!
Hmmm. Wonder what my voice might be full of - I certainly hope it's something nice like 'Strawberry Clouds'...
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