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El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 8, Página 1
I
couldn't
sleep
all
night
because
a
foghorn
was
making
noise
on
the
Sound.
I
tossed
and
turned,
feeling
half-sick
between
strange
reality
and
scary
dreams.
Just
before
dawn,
I
heard
a
taxi
go
up
Gatsby's
drive.
I
jumped
out
of
bed
and
started
to
dress
quickly.
I
felt
I
needed
to
tell
him
something
important,
and
waiting
until
morning
would
be
too
late.
As
I
crossed
his
lawn,
I
noticed
his
front
door
was
still
open.
He
was
leaning
against
a
table
in
the
hall,
looking
tired
and
sad,
or
maybe
just
sleepy.
"Nothing
happened,"
he
said
weakly.
"I
waited,
and
around
four
o'clock
she
came
to
the
window,
stood
there
for
a
minute,
and
then
turned
off
the
light."
His
house
seemed
bigger
than
ever
to
me
that
night
as
we
searched
the
large
rooms
for
cigarettes.
We
pushed
aside
curtains
that
felt
like
tents
and
searched
along
dark
walls
for
light
switches.
Once,
I
stumbled
onto
the
keys
of
a
ghostly
piano.
There
was
dust
everywhere,
and
the
rooms
smelled
musty,
as
if
they
hadn't
been
aired
for
days.
I
found
the
humidor
on
an
unfamiliar
table,
with
two
stale,
dry
cigarettes
inside.
We
opened
the
French
windows
in
the
drawing-room
and
sat
smoking,
looking
out
into
the
darkness.
"You
should
leave,"
I
said.
"They
will
probably
trace
your
car."
"Leave
now,
old
sport?"
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El Gran Gatsby — B1 Inglés | Cuentana