Part II

NOW, OF COURSE, the quality and the seasonability of these winter dreams varied, but the stuff of them remained. They persuaded Dexter several years later to pass up a business course at the State university--his father, prospering now, would have paid his way--for the precarious advantage of attending an older and more famous university in the East, where he was bothered by his scanty funds. But do not get the impression, because his winter dreams happened to be concerned at first with musings on the rich, that there was anything merely snobbish in the boy. He wanted not association with glittering things and glittering people--he wanted the glittering things themselves. Often he reached out for the best without knowing why he wanted it--and sometimes he ran up against the mysterious denials and prohibitions in which life indulges. It is with one of those denials and not with his career as a whole that this story deals. He made money. It was rather amazing. After college he went to the city from which Black Bear Lake draws its wealthy patrons. When he was only twenty-three and had been there not quite two years, there were already people who liked to say: "Now there's a boy--" All about him rich men's sons were peddling bonds precariously, or investing patrimonies precariously, or plodding through the two dozen volumes of the "George Washington Commercial Course," but Dexter borrowed a thousand dollars on his college degree and his confident mouth, and bought a partnership in a laundry.

It was a small laundry when he went into it but Dexter made a specialty of learning how the English washed fine woollen golf-stockings without shrinking them, and within a year he was catering to the trade that wore knickerbockers. Men were insisting that their Shetland hose and sweaters go to his laundry just as they had insisted on a caddy who could find golfballs. A little later he was doing their wives' lingerie as well--and running five branches in different parts of the city. Before he was twenty-seven he owned the largest string of laundries in his section of the country. It was then that he sold out and went to New York. But the part of his story that concerns us goes back to the days when he was making his first big success.

When he was twenty-three Mr. Hart--one of the gray-haired men who like to say "Now there's a boy"--gave him a guest card to the Sherry Island Golf Club for a week-end. So he signed his name one day on the register, and that afternoon played golf in a foursome with Mr. Hart and Mr. Sandwood and Mr. T. A. Hedrick. He did not consider it necessary to remark that he had once carried Mr. Hart's bag over this same links, and that he knew every trap and gully with his eyes shut--but he found himself glancing at the four caddies who trailed them, trying to catch a gleam or gesture that would remind him of himself, that would lessen the gap which lay between his present and his past.

It was a curious day, slashed abruptly with fleeting, familiar impressions. One minute he had the sense of being a trespasser--in the next he was impressed by the tremendous superiority he felt toward Mr. T. A. Hedrick, who was a bore and not even a good golfer any more.

Then, because of a ball Mr. Hart lost near the fifteenth green, an enormous thing happened. While they were searching the stiff grasses of the rough there was a clear call of "Fore!" from behind a hill in their rear. And as they all turned abruptly from their search a bright new ball sliced abruptly over the hill and caught Mr. T. A. Hedrick in the abdomen.

"By Gad!" cried Mr. T. A. Hedrick, "they ought to put some of these crazy women off the course. It's getting to be outrageous."

A head and a voice came up together over the hill:

"Do you mind if we go through?"

"You hit me in the stomach!" declared Mr. Hedrick wildly.

"Did I?" The girl approached the group of men. "I'm sorry. I yelled 'Fore !'"

Her glance fell casually on each of the men--then scanned the fairway for her ball.

"Did I bounce into the rough?"

It was impossible to determine whether this question was ingenuous or malicious. In a moment, however, she left no doubt, for as her partner came up over the hill she called cheerfully:

"Here I am! I'd have gone on the green except that I hit something."

As she took her stance for a short mashie shot, Dexter looked at her closely. She wore a blue gingham dress, rimmed at throat and shoulders with a white edging that accentuated her tan. The quality of exaggeration, of thinness, which had made her passionate eyes and down-turning mouth absurd at eleven, was gone now. She was arrestingly beautiful. The color in her cheeks was centered like the color in a picture--it was not a "high" color, but a sort of fluctuating and feverish warmth, so shaded that it seemed at any moment it would recede and disappear. This color and the mobility of her mouth gave a continual impression of flux, of intense life, of passionate vitality--balanced only partially by the sad luxury of her eyes.

She swung her mashie impatiently and without interest, pitching the ball into a sand-pit on the other side of the green. With a quick, insincere smile and a careless "Thank you!" she went on after it.

"That Judy Jones!" remarked Mr. Hedrick on the next tee, as they waited--some moments--for her to play on ahead. "All she needs is to be turned up and spanked for six months and then to be married off to an oldfashioned cavalry captain."

"My God, she's good-looking!" said Mr. Sandwood, who was just over thirty.

"Good-looking!" cried Mr. Hedrick contemptuously, "she always looks as if she wanted to be kissed! Turning those big cow-eyes on every calf in town!"

It was doubtful if Mr. Hedrick intended a reference to the maternal instinct.

"She'd play pretty good golf if she'd try," said Mr. Sandwood.

"She has no form," said Mr. Hedrick solemnly.

"She has a nice figure," said Mr. Sandwood.

"Better thank the Lord she doesn't drive a swifter ball," said Mr. Hart, winking at Dexter.

Later in the afternoon the sun went down with a riotous swirl of gold and varying blues and scarlets, and left the dry, rustling night of Western summer. Dexter watched from the veranda of the Golf Club, watched the even overlap of the waters in the little wind, silver molasses under the harvest-moon. Then the moon held a finger to her lips and the lake became a clear pool, pale and quiet. Dexter put on his bathing-suit and swam out to the farthest raft, where he stretched dripping on the wet canvas of the springboard.

There was a fish jumping and a star shining and the lights around the lake were gleaming. Over on a dark peninsula a piano was playing the songs of last summer and of summers before that-- songs from "Chin-Chin" and "The Count of Luxemburg" and "The Chocolate Soldier"--and because the sound of a piano over a stretch of water had always seemed beautiful to Dexter he lay perfectly quiet and listened.

The tune the piano was playing at that moment had been gay and new five years before when Dexter was a sophomore at college. They had played it at a prom once when he could not afford the luxury of proms, and he had stood outside the gymnasium and listened. The sound of the tune precipitated in him a sort of ecstasy and it was with that ecstasy he viewed what happened to him now. It was a mood of intense appreciation, a sense that, for once, he was magnificently attune to life and that everything about him was radiating a brightness and a glamour he might never know again.

A low, pale oblong detached itself suddenly from the darkness of the Island, spitting forth the reverberate sound of a racing motor-boat. Two white streamers of cleft water rolled themselves out behind it and almost immediately the boat was beside him, drowning out the hot tinkle of the piano in the drone of its spray. Dexter raising himself on his arms was aware of a figure standing at the wheel, of two dark eyes regarding him over the lengthening space of water--then the boat had gone by and was sweeping in an immense and purposeless circle of spray round and round in the middle of the lake. With equal eccentricity one of the circles flattened out and headed back toward the raft.

"Who's that?" she called, shutting off her motor. She was so near now that Dexter could see her bathing-suit, which consisted apparently of pink rompers.

The nose of the boat bumped the raft, and as the latter tilted rakishly he was precipitated toward her. With different degrees of interest they recognized each other.

"Aren't you one of those men we played through this afternoon?" she demanded.

He was.

"Well, do you know how to drive a motor-boat? Because if you do I wish you'd drive this one so I can ride on the surf-board behind. My name is Judy Jones"--she favored him with an absurd smirk--rather, what tried to be a smirk, for, twist her mouth as she might, it was not grotesque, it was merely beautiful--"and I live in a house over there on the Island, and in that house there is a man waiting for me. When he drove up at the door I drove out of the dock because he says I'm his ideal."

There was a fish jumping and a star shining and the lights around the lake were gleaming. Dexter sat beside Judy Jones and she explained how her boat was driven. Then she was in the water, swimming to the floating surfboard with a sinuous crawl. Watching her was without effort to the eye, watching a branch waving or a sea-gull flying. Her arms, burned to butternut, moved sinuously among the dull platinum ripples, elbow appearing first, casting the forearm back with a cadence of falling water, then reaching out and down, stabbing a path ahead.

They moved out into the lake; turning, Dexter saw that she was kneeling on the low rear of the now uptilted surf-board.

"Go faster," she called, "fast as it'll go."

Obediently he jammed the lever forward and the white spray mounted at the bow. When he looked around again the girl was standing up on the rushing board, her arms spread wide, her eyes lifted toward the moon.

"It's awful cold," she shouted. "What's your name?"

He told her.

"Well, why don't you come to dinner to-morrow night?"

His heart turned over like the fly-wheel of the boat, and, for the second time, her casual whim gave a new direction to his life.


  1. The flywheel is a part of an engine that turns in starting the engine. Dexter’s emotional response to Judy’s invitation is described with a simile comparing it to the boat’s flywheel turning over, suggesting that the invitation had a dynamic effect on him.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  2. Butternut is a light shade of brown; it is used here to describe Judy’s summer tan.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  3. In context, a crawl refers to a swimming stroke that consists of alternate overarm movements and rapid kicking of the feet. In describing how Judy swims, “sinuous” means lithe, agile, and graceful.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  4. Repetition of the previous description of the scene emphasizes its romantic mood and indicates that Dexter is still enraptured by it.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  5. To smirk means to smile in a way that is smug or conceited; “grotesque” means distorted in a way that’s comic or ugly. Even when Judy tries to smirk, Dexter finds it attractive.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  6. Rompers, a type of sports clothing, are a one-piece outer garment consisting of a top and shorts. Judy is again associated with the color pink, part of the story’s color motif.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  7. The visual and auditory imagery in this scene is an example of Fitzgerald’s “evocative style” of writing: evoking memories and emotions in readers through descriptive sensory writing that creates a particular mood.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  8. “Chin-Chin,” “The Count of Luxemb[o]urg,” and “The Chocolate Soldier” were popular operettas at the turn of the 20th century.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  9. Fitzgerald’s use of the coordinating conjunction “and” in this sentence is an example of polysyndeton, a literary technique in which coordinating conjunctions are repeated in close succession in joining words or phrases listed in a sentence. Through polysyndeton, each word or phrase in the list is emphasized and given equal weight or value.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  10. The moon is personified in the passage by ascribing to it human traits. Personification, a type of figurative language, is often employed in creating mood, such as the romantic mood in this scene.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  11. A “harvest moon” is a full moon that rises on or about September 22 each year. It is an autumn moon, which associates it with farmers harvesting their crops.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  12. The ripples on the water are described with a direct metaphor saying they are “molasses,” a thick, dark brown syrup, that appears silver in the moonlight.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  13. Gold, blue, and scarlet (a shade of pink) continue to develop the color motif in the story. When Judy encounters Dexter and his party on the golf course, she wears a blue gingham dress edged in white, and the “feverish warmth” of the color in her cheeks suggests shades of pink, suggesting youth and vitality.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  14. A “mashie” is a type of golf club made of iron. It has a wider clubhead designed for making short or medium-length approach shots, such as hitting a golf ball out of the rough.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  15. “Ingenuous” means innocent and sincere, while “malicious” means deliberately spiteful.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  16. Despite his early success in business and his dreams of becoming a member of the wealthy elite, Dexter seems uncomfortable with the “gap which lay between his present and his past.” His discomfort suggests recognition that his ambition has separated him from himself or has caused a divide between who he really is and whom he is trying to become. The passage subtly suggests that Dexter’s winter dreams are leading him astray.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  17. The chronological order of the story is interrupted here with a flashback that takes readers to an earlier time in Dexter’s life and narrates the events that had occurred.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  18. “Shetland hose and sweaters” refers to apparel made from the wool of sheep raised in the Shetland Islands off the coast of northern Scotland. The wool is noted for its softness and fine texture.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  19. “Knickerbockers” refers to a style of men’s trousers that are baggy at the knee and don’t cover the leg below the knee. Popular in the early 1900s, especially with golfers, they were worn with long stockings up to the knee.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  20. A patrimony is wealth that has been inherited rather than earned. Inheriting wealth from previous generations is common in the upper class, an advantage Dexter does not have.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  21. “Glittering” means shining with a shimmering or sparkling light. The word has connotations of beauty and glamour, suggesting Dexter’s romantic view of an upper-class life.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  22. “Precarious” means insecure and uncertain; “scanty” means meager or scarce. In pursuit of his romantic winter dreams, Dexter was willing to endure financial distress as a student in order to attend an elite Eastern university, even though the sacrifice did not ensure his future success.

    — Owl Eyes Editors
  23. Dexter’s “winter dreams” refer specifically to his boyhood fantasies described in part I, but his dreams don’t end there. Dissatisfied with his station in life, Dexter continues to dream about the life he imagines living, with each new scenario expressing the same desire: to overcome his middle-class personal background and transcend his social class.

    — Owl Eyes Editors