Answer and Explanation:
In F. Scott Fitzgerald's "The Great Gatsby", the narrator Nick is involved in his neighbor's attempt to recreate the opportunity to love the girl of his dreams.
Gatsby lives right next door to Nick, who happens to be Daisy's cousin. Daisy is the girl Gatsby fell in love with five years earlier, but thought himself undeserving of her for being poor. In the time it took Gatsby to become wealthy, Daisy ended up marrying someone else.
Gatsby is, however, hopeful to have her back. He asks Nick to invite her to his house for tea. Daisy shows up not knowing her former lover will be there. Their reunion is, at first, extremely tense and nervous. Here are four details included in the narrative that convey those feeling:
1. Gatsby's demeanor: his hands plunged like weights in his pocket and his tragic glare;
2. The silence that follows Gatsby's entrance;
3. Gatsby and Daisy's artificiality in voice and behavior;
4.Gatsby's clumsiness when he almost knocks a clock to the ground.
I'll add the excerpt here, just as confirmation of those details:
She turned her head as there was a light, dignified knocking at the front door. I went out and opened it. Gatsby, pale as death, with his hands plunged like weights in his coat pockets, was standing in a puddle of water glaring tragically into my eyes.
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. It wasn’t a bit funny. Aware of the loud beating of my own heart I pulled the door to against the increasing rain.
For half a minute there wasn’t a sound. Then from the living room I heard a sort of choking murmur and part of a laugh followed by Daisy’s voice on a clear artificial note.
‘I certainly am awfully glad to see you again.’
A pause; it endured horribly. I had nothing to do in the hall so I went into the room.
Gatsby, his hands still in his pockets, was reclining against the mantelpiece in a strained counterfeit of perfect ease, even of boredom. His head leaned back so far that it rested against the face of a defunct mantelpiece clock and from this position his distraught eyes stared down at Daisy who was sitting frightened but graceful on the edge of a stiff chair.
‘We’ve met before,’ muttered Gatsby. His eyes glanced momentarily at me and his lips parted with an abortive attempt at a laugh. Luckily the clock took this moment to tilt dangerously at the pressure of his head, whereupon he turned and caught it with trembling fingers and set it back in place. Then he sat down, rigidly, his elbow on the arm of the sofa and his chin in his hand.