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81
El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 4, Página 3
“Good
morning,
old
sport.
You’re
having
lunch
with
me
today,
and
I
thought
we’d
drive
up
together.”
He
balanced
himself
on
the
dashboard
of
his
car
with
that
uniquely
American
grace
that
comes,
I
suppose,
from
the
lack
of
heavy
work
in
youth
and,
even
more,
from
the
formless
grace
of
our
nervous,
sporadic
games.
This
quality
kept
breaking
through
his
careful
manner
as
restlessness.
He
was
never
quite
still;
there
was
always
a
tapping
foot
or
an
impatiently
opening
and
closing
hand.
He
saw
me
admiring
his
car.
“It’s
pretty,
isn’t
it,
old
sport?”
He
jumped
off
to
give
me
a
better
view.
“Haven’t
you
ever
seen
it
before?”
I
had
seen
it.
Everyone
had
seen
it.
It
was
a
rich
cream
color,
bright
with
nickel,
swollen
here
and
there
in
its
enormous
length
with
triumphant
hatboxes
and
supper-boxes
and
toolboxes,
and
layered
with
a
labyrinth
of
windshields
that
reflected
a
dozen
suns.
Sitting
down
behind
many
layers
of
glass
in
a
sort
of
green
leather
conservatory,
we
headed
to
town.
I
had
spoken
with
him
perhaps
half
a
dozen
times
in
the
past
month
and
found,
to
my
disappointment,
that
he
had
little
to
say.
So
my
initial
impression,
that
he
was
a
person
of
some
undefined
importance,
had
gradually
faded,
and
he
had
become
simply
the
owner
of
an
elaborate
roadhouse
next
door.
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El Gran Gatsby — B2 Inglés | Cuentana