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51
El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 3, Página 2
I
think
on
the
first
night
I
visited
Gatsby's
house,
I
was
one
of
the
few
guests
actually
invited.
People
didn’t
get
invited—they
just
went.
They
got
into
cars
that
took
them
to
Long
Island,
and
somehow
they
ended
up
at
Gatsby’s
door.
Once
there,
they
were
introduced
by
someone
who
knew
Gatsby,
and
after
that,
they
behaved
as
if
they
were
at
an
amusement
park.
Sometimes
they
came
and
went
without
ever
meeting
Gatsby,
attending
the
party
with
a
simplicity
of
heart
that
was
like
their
ticket
in.
I
had
actually
been
invited.
A
chauffeur
in
a
robin’s-egg
blue
uniform
crossed
my
lawn
early
that
Saturday
morning
with
a
surprisingly
formal
note
from
his
employer:
the
honor
would
be
entirely
Gatsby’s
if
I
attended
his
“little
party”
that
night.
He
had
seen
me
several
times
and
had
meant
to
call
on
me
long
before,
but
a
strange
series
of
events
had
prevented
it—signed
Jay
Gatsby,
in
an
elegant
hand.
Dressed
in
white
flannels,
I
went
over
to
his
lawn
a
little
after
seven,
feeling
uneasy
among
the
swirling
crowd
of
people
I
didn’t
know—though
here
and
there
I
recognized
a
face
from
the
commuting
train.
I
was
struck
by
the
number
of
young
Englishmen
scattered
about;
all
well-dressed,
all
looking
a
bit
hungry,
and
all
speaking
in
low,
serious
voices
to
solid,
prosperous
Americans.
I
was
sure
they
were
selling
something:
bonds,
insurance,
or
cars.
They
were
at
least
painfully
aware
of
the
easy
money
around
and
convinced
it
could
be
theirs
with
a
few
well-chosen
words.
As
soon
as
I
arrived,
I
tried
to
find
my
host,
but
the
two
or
three
people
I
asked
about
his
whereabouts
stared
at
me
in
such
surprise
and
denied
knowing
anything
about
his
movements
so
strongly
that
I
slipped
away
toward
the
cocktail
table—the
only
place
in
the
garden
where
a
single
man
could
linger
without
appearing
aimless
and
alone.
I
was
on
my
way
to
get
quite
drunk
from
sheer
embarrassment
when
Jordan
Baker
came
out
of
the
house
and
stood
at
the
top
of
the
marble
steps,
leaning
back
a
little
and
looking
down
into
the
garden
with
a
mix
of
disdain
and
interest.
Welcome
or
not,
I
felt
I
needed
to
attach
myself
to
someone
before
I
started
making
friendly
comments
to
strangers.
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El Gran Gatsby — B2 Inglés | Cuentana