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36
El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 2, Página 10
Mr.
McKee
was
a
pale,
feminine
man
from
the
flat
below.
He
had
just
shaved,
for
there
was
a
white
spot
of
lather
on
his
cheekbone,
and
he
was
most
respectful
in
his
greeting
to
everyone
in
the
room.
He
informed
me
that
he
was
in
the
“artistic
game,”
and
I
gathered
later
that
he
was
a
photographer
and
had
made
the
dim
enlargement
of
Mrs.
Wilson’s
mother
which
hovered
like
an
ectoplasm
on
the
wall.
His
wife
was
shrill,
languid,
handsome,
and
horrible.
She
told
me
with
pride
that
her
husband
had
photographed
her
a
hundred
and
twenty-seven
times
since
they
had
been
married.
Mrs.
Wilson
had
changed
her
costume
some
time
before,
and
was
now
attired
in
an
elaborate
afternoon
dress
of
cream-coloured
chiffon,
which
gave
out
a
continual
rustle
as
she
swept
about
the
room.
With
the
influence
of
the
dress
her
personality
had
also
undergone
a
change.
The
intense
vitality
that
had
been
so
remarkable
in
the
garage
was
converted
into
impressive
hauteur.
Her
laughter,
her
gestures,
her
assertions
became
more
violently
affected
moment
by
moment,
and
as
she
expanded
the
room
grew
smaller
around
her,
until
she
seemed
to
be
revolving
on
a
noisy,
creaking
pivot
through
the
smoky
air.
“My
dear,”
she
told
her
sister
in
a
high,
mincing
shout,
“most
of
these
fellas
will
cheat
you
every
time.
All
they
think
of
is
money.
I
had
a
woman
up
here
last
week
to
look
at
my
feet,
and
when
she
gave
me
the
bill
you’d
of
thought
she
had
my
appendicitis
out.”
“What
was
the
name
of
the
woman?”
asked
Mrs.
McKee.
“Mrs.
Eberhardt.
She
goes
around
looking
at
people’s
feet
in
their
own
homes.”
“I
like
your
dress,”
remarked
Mrs.
McKee,
“I
think
it’s
adorable.”
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El Gran Gatsby — C1 Inglés | Cuentana