Nick watched Gatsby quietly as he faffed around and sorted out lunch. He was confused as to his friend's motivations because he was sure Gatsby had been calling Fitzgerald a madman and yet he was so keen to set up a nice lunch for them. He didn't do anything to help because his efforts were never quite as grand as Gatsby's. But Gatsby had a brilliant mind and an insatiable imagination.
"I think it looks lovely," Nick said in reply, because it honestly did. "I don't know what you're expecting, really. I'm sure if he's quite mad he won't care too much-" That was the wrong thing to say. Gatsby took pride in what he did.
"I mean, it's fine, Jay. It's beautiful. More than he deserves, I'm sure."
Nick was terrified, truth be told. He had to meet the man that had published his diary, as Gatsby said. So he knew all about him. He knew all about everything. True, it had been an honest publication, it hadn't been edited or modified in any way. He had even used Nick's own name, so it was a complicated situation to find himself in. Truly, Gatsby was probably the more wronged of the two of them.