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El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 8, Página 5
Suddenly,
he
made
a
strange
comment.
“In
any
case,”
he
said,
“it
was
just
personal.”
What
could
you
make
of
that,
except
to
suspect
some
deep
intensity
in
his
view
of
the
affair
that
couldn’t
be
measured?
He
returned
from
France
when
Tom
and
Daisy
were
still
on
their
honeymoon
and
made
a
miserable
but
irresistible
trip
to
Louisville
with
the
last
of
his
army
pay.
He
stayed
a
week,
walking
the
streets
where
they
had
walked
together
through
the
November
night
and
revisiting
the
hidden
places
they
had
driven
to
in
her
white
car.
Just
as
Daisy’s
house
always
seemed
more
mysterious
and
joyful
to
him
than
others,
his
idea
of
the
city
itself,
even
without
her,
was
filled
with
a
sad
beauty.
He
left
feeling
that
if
he
had
searched
harder,
he
might
have
found
her—that
he
was
leaving
her
behind.
The
day-coach—he
was
broke
now—was
hot.
He
went
to
the
open
vestibule
and
sat
on
a
folding-chair
as
the
station
slipped
away
and
the
backs
of
unfamiliar
buildings
moved
by.
Then
they
were
out
in
the
spring
fields,
where
a
yellow
trolley
raced
them
for
a
minute
with
people
inside
who
might
once
have
seen
the
pale
magic
of
her
face
on
the
casual
street.
The
track
curved,
moving
away
from
the
sun,
which,
as
it
sank
lower,
seemed
to
bless
the
disappearing
city
where
she
had
breathed.
He
stretched
out
his
hand
desperately
as
if
to
grasp
a
wisp
of
air,
to
save
a
fragment
of
the
place
she
had
made
lovely
for
him.
But
it
was
all
passing
too
quickly
now
for
his
blurred
eyes,
and
he
knew
he
had
lost
that
part
of
it,
the
freshest
and
the
best,
forever.
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El Gran Gatsby — B2 Inglés | Cuentana