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El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 9, Página 1
After
two
years,
I
still
remember
the
rest
of
that
day.
The
night
and
the
next
day
were
a
blur
of
police,
photographers,
and
reporters
coming
in
and
out
of
Gatsby's
front
door.
A
rope
was
across
the
main
gate,
and
a
policeman
stood
there
to
keep
out
the
curious.
But
little
boys
found
they
could
enter
through
my
yard,
and
they
gathered
around
the
pool,
staring.
Someone,
maybe
a
detective,
called
Wilson
a
"madman"
as
he
looked
at
his
body.
His
voice
influenced
the
newspaper
reports
the
next
morning.
Most
of
those
reports
were
a
nightmare—strange,
detailed,
eager,
and
false.
When
Michaelis
testified
at
the
inquest,
revealing
Wilson's
suspicions
about
his
wife,
I
thought
the
whole
story
would
soon
be
a
scandal.
But
Catherine,
who
could
have
said
anything,
stayed
silent.
She
showed
surprising
strength,
looking
at
the
coroner
with
determined
eyes
and
swore
her
sister
never
met
Gatsby,
was
happy
with
her
husband,
and
had
done
nothing
wrong.
She
convinced
herself
of
it
and
cried
into
her
handkerchief,
as
if
the
idea
was
too
much
to
bear.
So,
Wilson
was
seen
as
a
man
"deranged
by
grief"
to
keep
the
case
simple.
And
that's
where
it
ended.
But
all
this
seemed
distant
and
unimportant.
I
felt
alone
on
Gatsby's
side.
From
the
moment
I
called
West
Egg
village
with
the
news,
everyone
came
to
me
with
questions
about
him.
At
first,
I
was
surprised
and
confused.
Then,
as
he
lay
there,
not
moving
or
speaking
for
hours,
I
realized
I
was
responsible
because
no
one
else
cared—cared,
I
mean,
with
that
deep
personal
interest
everyone
deserves
at
the
end.
I
called
Daisy
half
an
hour
after
we
found
him,
without
thinking
twice.
But
she
and
Tom
had
left
that
afternoon,
taking
their
luggage
with
them.
"Did
they
leave
an
address?"
"No."
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El Gran Gatsby — B1 Inglés | Cuentana