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212
El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 7, Página 55
Myrtle
Wilson's
body
lay
on
a
table,
covered
in
blankets.
Tom
stood,
looking
at
her,
not
moving.
A
policeman
took
names,
sweating.
I
heard
Wilson's
sad
voice.
He
stood
at
his
office
door,
swaying,
holding
the
doorposts.
A
man
talked
to
him,
but
Wilson
did
not
listen.
His
eyes
moved
from
the
light
to
the
table.
He
cried
out:
"Oh,
my
God!
Oh,
my
God!
Oh,
God!
Oh,
my
God!"
Tom
lifted
his
head
suddenly.
He
looked
around
and
spoke
to
the
policeman.
"M-a-v—"
the
policeman
said,
"—o—"
"No,
r—"
corrected
the
man,
"M-a-v-r-o—"
"Listen
to
me!"
Tom
muttered
fiercely.
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El Gran Gatsby — A1 Inglés | Cuentana