1 The voice in the hall rose high with annoyance.
2 I had nothing to do in the hall so I went into the room.
3 Simultaneously I heard his voice, gruff, muffled, husky, at the hall telephone.
4 So he was aware of the bizarre accusations that flavored conversation in his halls.
5 The hall was at present occupied by two deplorably sober men and their highly indignant wives.
6 After changing my clothes I went next door and found Mr. Gatz walking up and down excitedly in the hall.
7 As I waited for my hat in the hall the door of the library opened and Jordan Baker and Gatsby came out together.
8 Some little boys had come up on the steps and were looking into the hall; when I told them who had arrived they went reluctantly away.
9 Crossing his lawn I saw that his front door was still open and he was leaning against a table in the hall, heavy with dejection or sleep.
10 Through the hall of the Buchanans' house blew a faint wind, carrying the sound of the telephone bell out to Gatsby and me as we waited at the door.
11 With his hands still in his coat pockets he stalked by me into the hall, turned sharply as if he were on a wire and disappeared into the living room.
12 And as the time passed and the servants came in and stood waiting in the hall, his eyes began to blink anxiously and he spoke of the rain in a worried uncertain way.
13 He lit Daisy's cigarette from a trembling match, and sat down with her on a couch far across the room where there was no light save what the gleaming floor bounced in from the hall.
14 In the main hall a bar with a real brass rail was set up, and stocked with gins and liquors and with cordials so long forgotten that most of his female guests were too young to know one from another.
15 He had reached an age where death no longer has the quality of ghastly surprise, and when he looked around him now for the first time and saw the height and splendor of the hall and the great rooms opening out from it into other rooms his grief began to be mixed with an awed pride.
16 The last swimmers have come in from the beach now and are dressing upstairs; the cars from New York are parked five deep in the drive, and already the halls and salons and verandas are gaudy with primary colors and hair shorn in strange new ways and shawls beyond the dreams of Castile.