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El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 9, Página 28
I
shook
hands
with
him;
it
felt
silly
not
to,
because
suddenly
he
seemed
like
a
child
to
me.
Then
he
went
into
the
jewelry
store
to
buy
a
pearl
necklace—or
maybe
just
a
pair
of
cufflinks—free
from
my
provincial
worries
forever.
Gatsby’s
house
was
still
empty
when
I
left—the
grass
on
his
lawn
was
as
long
as
mine.
A
taxi
driver
in
the
village
never
drove
past
the
entrance
gate
without
stopping
and
pointing
inside;
maybe
he
was
the
one
who
drove
Daisy
and
Gatsby
to
East
Egg
the
night
of
the
accident,
and
maybe
he
had
his
own
story
about
it.
I
didn’t
want
to
hear
it,
so
I
avoided
him
when
I
got
off
the
train.
I
spent
my
Saturday
nights
in
New
York
because
those
bright,
dazzling
parties
of
his
were
so
vivid
in
my
mind
that
I
could
still
hear
the
music
and
laughter
from
his
garden,
and
the
cars
going
up
and
down
his
drive.
One
night
I
did
hear
a
real
car
there
and
saw
its
lights
stop
at
his
front
steps.
But
I
didn’t
check
it
out.
It
was
probably
a
final
guest
who
had
been
away
and
didn’t
know
the
party
was
over.
On
the
last
night,
with
my
trunk
packed
and
my
car
sold
to
the
grocer,
I
went
over
to
look
at
that
huge,
failed
house
once
more.
On
the
white
steps,
a
bad
word,
written
by
a
boy
with
a
piece
of
brick,
stood
out
clearly
in
the
moonlight,
and
I
erased
it
by
dragging
my
shoe
across
the
stone.
Then
I
walked
down
to
the
beach
and
lay
on
the
sand.
Most
of
the
big
shore
houses
were
closed
now,
and
there
were
hardly
any
lights
except
the
shadowy
glow
of
a
ferryboat
across
the
Sound.
As
the
moon
rose
higher,
the
unnecessary
houses
seemed
to
disappear
until
I
noticed
the
old
island
here
that
once
amazed
Dutch
sailors—a
fresh,
green
part
of
the
new
world.
Its
vanished
trees,
the
ones
that
made
way
for
Gatsby’s
house,
had
once
whispered
to
the
last
and
greatest
of
all
human
dreams;
for
a
brief,
enchanted
moment,
people
must
have
held
their
breath
in
the
presence
of
this
continent,
drawn
into
a
beauty
they
neither
understood
nor
wanted,
face
to
face
for
the
last
time
with
something
equal
to
their
capacity
for
wonder.
As
I
sat
there
thinking
about
the
old,
unknown
world,
I
thought
of
Gatsby's
wonder
when
he
first
saw
the
green
light
at
the
end
of
Daisy’s
dock.
He
had
come
a
long
way
to
this
blue
lawn,
and
his
dream
must
have
seemed
so
close
that
he
could
hardly
believe
he
couldn’t
reach
it.
He
didn’t
know
it
was
already
behind
him,
somewhere
back
in
that
vast
darkness
beyond
the
city,
where
the
dark
fields
of
the
republic
stretched
out
under
the
night.
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El Gran Gatsby — B1 Inglés | Cuentana