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6
El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 1, Página 6
She
laughed
again,
as
if
she
had
said
something
very
witty,
and
held
my
hand
for
a
moment,
looking
up
into
my
face,
promising
that
there
was
no
one
in
the
world
she
so
much
wanted
to
see.
That
was
a
way
she
had.
She
hinted
in
a
murmur
that
the
surname
of
the
balancing
girl
was
Baker.
(I’ve
heard
it
said
that
Daisy’s
murmur
was
only
to
make
people
lean
toward
her;
an
irrelevant
criticism
that
made
it
no
less
charming.)
At
any
rate,
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
tottered
a
little
and
given
her
something
of
a
fright.
Again
a
sort
of
apology
arose
to
my
lips.
Almost
any
exhibition
of
complete
self-sufficiency
draws
a
stunned
tribute
from
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
up
and
down,
as
if
each
speech
is
an
arrangement
of
notes
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
an
excitement
in
her
voice
that
men
who
had
cared
for
her
found
difficult
to
forget:
a
singing
compulsion,
a
whispered
“Listen,”
a
promise
that
she
had
done
gay,
exciting
things
just
a
while
since
and
that
there
were
gay,
exciting
things
hovering
in
the
next
hour.
I
told
her
how
I
had
stopped
off
in
Chicago
for
a
day
on
my
way
East,
and
how
a
dozen
people
had
sent
their
love
through
me.
“Do
they
miss
me?”
she
cried
ecstatically.
“The
whole
town
is
desolate.
All
the
cars
have
the
left
rear
wheel
painted
black
as
a
mourning
wreath,
and
there’s
a
persistent
wail
all
night
along
the
north
shore.”
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El Gran Gatsby — B2 Inglés | Cuentana