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El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 8, Página 11
We
talked
like
that
for
a
while,
and
then
suddenly
we
weren’t
talking
any
longer.
I
don’t
know
which
of
us
hung
up
with
a
sharp
click,
but
I
know
I
didn’t
care.
I
couldn’t
have
talked
to
her
across
a
tea-table
that
day
if
I
never
talked
to
her
again
in
this
world.
I
called
Gatsby’s
house
a
few
minutes
later,
but
the
line
was
busy.
I
tried
four
times;
finally,
an
exasperated
operator
told
me
the
wire
was
being
kept
open
for
a
long-distance
call
from
Detroit.
Taking
out
my
timetable,
I
drew
a
small
circle
around
the
three-fifty
train.
Then
I
leaned
back
in
my
chair
and
tried
to
think.
It
was
just
noon.
When
I
passed
the
ash-heaps
on
the
train
that
morning,
I
had
deliberately
crossed
to
the
other
side
of
the
car.
I
supposed
there’d
be
a
curious
crowd
around
there
all
day
with
little
boys
searching
for
dark
spots
in
the
dust,
and
some
talkative
man
repeating
what
had
happened,
until
it
became
less
and
less
real
even
to
him
and
he
could
tell
it
no
longer,
and
Myrtle
Wilson’s
tragic
achievement
was
forgotten.
Now
I
want
to
go
back
a
little
and
tell
what
happened
at
the
garage
after
we
left
there
the
night
before.
They
had
difficulty
locating
the
sister,
Catherine.
She
must
have
broken
her
rule
against
drinking
that
night,
for
when
she
arrived,
she
was
stupid
with
liquor
and
unable
to
understand
that
the
ambulance
had
already
gone
to
Flushing.
When
they
convinced
her
of
this,
she
immediately
fainted,
as
if
that
was
the
intolerable
part
of
the
affair.
Someone,
kind
or
curious,
took
her
in
his
car
and
drove
her
in
the
wake
of
her
sister’s
body.
Until
late
into
the
night,
a
shifting
crowd
gathered
in
front
of
the
garage,
while
George
Wilson
rocked
back
and
forth
on
the
couch
inside.
The
office
door
was
open
for
a
while,
and
everyone
entering
the
garage
couldn’t
help
but
glance
through
it.
Eventually,
someone
remarked
it
was
inappropriate
and
closed
the
door.
Michaelis
and
a
few
other
men
stayed
with
him;
first,
there
were
four
or
five
men,
then
two
or
three.
Later,
Michaelis
asked
the
last
stranger
to
wait
another
fifteen
minutes
while
he
went
to
his
place
to
make
coffee.
After
that,
he
stayed
alone
with
Wilson
until
dawn.
Around
three
o’clock,
Wilson’s
incoherent
muttering
changed—he
became
quieter
and
started
talking
about
the
yellow
car.
He
declared
he
had
a
way
to
find
out
who
owned
the
yellow
car
and
then
blurted
out
that
a
few
months
ago,
his
wife
had
returned
from
the
city
with
bruises
on
her
face
and
a
swollen
nose.
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El Gran Gatsby — B2 Inglés | Cuentana