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29
El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 2, Página 3
“No,
he
doesn’t,”
said
Tom
coldly.
“And
if
you
feel
that
way
about
it,
maybe
I’d
better
sell
it
somewhere
else
after
all.”
“I
don’t
mean
that,”
Wilson
quickly
explained.
“I
just
meant—”
His
voice
trailed
off
and
Tom
looked
impatiently
around
the
garage.
Then
I
heard
footsteps
on
stairs,
and
in
a
moment
the
thick
figure
of
a
woman
blocked
the
light
from
the
office
door.
She
was
in
her
mid-thirties,
slightly
stout,
but
she
carried
her
weight
sensually
as
some
women
can.
Her
face,
above
a
spotted
dark
blue
crêpe-de-chine
dress,
had
no
beauty,
but
there
was
an
immediate
vitality
about
her
as
if
her
body's
nerves
were
always
smoldering.
She
smiled
slowly
and,
walking
through
her
husband
as
if
he
were
a
ghost,
shook
hands
with
Tom,
looking
him
directly
in
the
eye.
Then
she
wet
her
lips
and,
without
turning,
spoke
to
her
husband
in
a
soft,
coarse
voice:
“Get
some
chairs,
why
don’t
you,
so
somebody
can
sit
down.”
“Oh,
sure,”
agreed
Wilson
hurriedly,
and
went
to
the
little
office,
blending
immediately
with
the
cement
color
of
the
walls.
A
white
ashen
dust
covered
his
dark
suit
and
pale
hair
as
it
covered
everything
nearby—except
his
wife,
who
moved
close
to
Tom.
“I
want
to
see
you,”
said
Tom
intently.
“Get
on
the
next
train.”
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El Gran Gatsby — B2 Inglés | Cuentana