"In one of the windows over the garage the curtains
had been moved aside a little, and Myrtle Wilson was peering down at
the car. So engrossed was she that she had no consciousness of being
observed, and one emotion after another crept into her face like
objects into a slowly developing picture. Her expression was curiously
familiar--it was an expression I had often seen on women's faces, but
on Myrtle Wilson's face it seemed purposeless and inexplicable until I
realized that her eyes wide with jealous terror, were fixed not on Tom,
but on Jordan Baker, whom she took to be his wife" The Great Gatsby, p. 124-125
"She was in the middle thirties, and faintly stout, but she carried her surplus flesh sensuously as some women can. Her face, above a spotted dress of dark blue crepe-de-chine, contained no facet or gleam of beauty, but there was an immediately perceptible vitality about her as if the nerves of her body were continually smoldering." (Pg 25)
