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El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 1, Página 6
She
laughed
again,
as
if
she
had
said
something
very
funny,
and
held
my
hand
for
a
moment,
looking
into
my
face,
promising
that
there
was
no
one
she
wanted
to
see
more.
That
was
her
way.
She
hinted
in
a
murmur
that
the
other
girl’s
last
name
was
Baker.
(People
said
Daisy
murmured
to
make
others
lean
closer;
a
criticism
that
didn’t
make
it
less
charming.)
Miss
Baker’s
lips
fluttered,
she
nodded
at
me
almost
imperceptibly,
and
then
quickly
tipped
her
head
back
again—the
object
she
was
balancing
had
obviously
moved
and
startled
her.
Again
I
almost
apologized.
Any
show
of
complete
self-sufficiency
always
impresses
me.
I
looked
back
at
my
cousin,
who
began
to
ask
me
questions
in
her
low,
thrilling
voice.
It
was
the
kind
of
voice
that
the
ear
follows
as
if
each
word
is
a
note
that
will
never
be
played
again.
Her
face
was
sad
and
lovely
with
bright
things
in
it,
bright
eyes
and
a
bright,
passionate
mouth.
But
there
was
excitement
in
her
voice
that
men
who
cared
for
her
found
unforgettable:
a
singing
compulsion,
a
whispered
“Listen,”
a
promise
that
she
had
done
exciting
things
recently
and
that
more
exciting
things
were
ahead.
I
told
her
how
I
had
stopped
in
Chicago
for
a
day
on
my
way
East,
and
how
many
people
had
sent
their
love
through
me.
“Do
they
miss
me?”
she
asked
excitedly.
“The
whole
town
is
sad.
All
the
cars
have
the
left
rear
wheel
painted
black
like
a
mourning
wreath,
and
there’s
a
wail
all
night
along
the
north
shore.”
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El Gran Gatsby — B1 Inglés | Cuentana