1 They stopped here and turned toward each other.
2 By six o'clock Michaelis was worn out and grateful for the sound of a car stopping outside.
3 Tom Buchanan who had been hovering restlessly about the room stopped and rested his hand on my shoulder.
4 Just as I slowed up to avoid overtaking him he stopped and began frowning into the windows of a jewelry store.
5 It was lonely for a day or so until one morning some man, more recently arrived than I, stopped me on the road.
6 Tom stopped beside the porch and looked up at the second floor where two windows bloomed with light among the vines.
7 I told her how I had stopped off in Chicago for a day on my way east and how a dozen people had sent their love through me.
8 He stopped at the garage for a pneumatic mattress that had amused his guests during the summer, and the chauffeur helped him pump it up.
9 Once he stopped and shifted it a little, and the chauffeur asked him if he needed help, but he shook his head and in a moment disappeared among the yellowing trees.
10 She held my hand impersonally, as a promise that she'd take care of me in a minute, and gave ear to two girls in twin yellow dresses who stopped at the foot of the steps.
11 I went up to New York with Tom on the train one afternoon and when we stopped by the ashheaps he jumped to his feet and taking hold of my elbow literally forced me from the car.
12 He slowed down, but still without any intention of stopping until, as we came nearer, the hushed intent faces of the people at the garage door made him automatically put on the brakes.
13 The hard brown beetles kept thudding against the dull light and whenever Michaelis heard a car go tearing along the road outside it sounded to him like the car that hadn't stopped a few hours before.
14 One of the taxi drivers in the village never took a fare past the entrance gate without stopping for a minute and pointing inside; perhaps it was he who drove Daisy and Gatsby over to East Egg the night of the accident and perhaps he had made a story about it all his own.
15 About five o'clock our procession of three cars reached the cemetery and stopped in a thick drizzle beside the gate--first a motor hearse, horribly black and wet, then Mr. Gatz and the minister and I in the limousine, and, a little later, four or five servants and the postman from West Egg in Gatsby's station wagon, all wet to the skin.