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28
El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 2, Página 2
I
followed
him
over
a
low
whitewashed
railroad
fence,
and
we
walked
back
a
hundred
yards
along
the
road
under
Doctor
Eckleburg’s
persistent
stare.
The
only
building
in
sight
was
a
small
block
of
yellow
brick
sitting
on
the
edge
of
the
waste
land,
a
sort
of
compact
Main
Street
ministering
to
it,
and
contiguous
to
absolutely
nothing.
One
of
the
three
shops
it
contained
was
for
rent
and
another
was
an
all-night
restaurant,
approached
by
a
trail
of
ashes;
the
third
was
a
garage—Repairs.
George
B.
Wilson.
Cars
bought
and
sold.—and
I
followed
Tom
inside.
The
interior
was
unprosperous
and
bare;
the
only
car
visible
was
the
dust-covered
wreck
of
a
Ford
which
crouched
in
a
dim
corner.
It
had
occurred
to
me
that
this
shadow
of
a
garage
must
be
a
blind,
and
that
sumptuous
and
romantic
apartments
were
concealed
overhead,
when
the
proprietor
himself
appeared
in
the
door
of
an
office,
wiping
his
hands
on
a
piece
of
waste.
He
was
a
blond,
spiritless
man,
anaemic,
and
faintly
handsome.
When
he
saw
us
a
damp
gleam
of
hope
sprang
into
his
light
blue
eyes.
“Hello,
Wilson,
old
man,”
said
Tom,
slapping
him
jovially
on
the
shoulder.
“How’s
business?”
“I
can’t
complain,”
answered
Wilson
unconvincingly.
“When
are
you
going
to
sell
me
that
car?”
“Next
week;
I’ve
got
my
man
working
on
it
now.”
“Works
pretty
slow,
don’t
he?”
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El Gran Gatsby — C1 Inglés | Cuentana