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29
El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 2, Página 3
“No,
he
doesn’t,”
said
Tom
coldly.
“And
if
you
feel
that
way
about
it,
maybe
I’d
better
sell
it
somewhere
else
after
all.”
“I
don’t
mean
that,”
explained
Wilson
quickly.
“I
just
meant—”
His
voice
faded
off
and
Tom
glanced
impatiently
around
the
garage.
Then
I
heard
footsteps
on
a
stairs,
and
in
a
moment
the
thickish
figure
of
a
woman
blocked
out
the
light
from
the
office
door.
She
was
in
the
middle
thirties,
and
faintly
stout,
but
she
carried
her
flesh
sensuously
as
some
women
can.
Her
face,
above
a
spotted
dress
of
dark
blue
crêpe-de-chine,
contained
no
facet
or
gleam
of
beauty,
but
there
was
an
immediately
perceptible
vitality
about
her
as
if
the
nerves
of
her
body
were
continually
smouldering.
She
smiled
slowly
and,
walking
through
her
husband
as
if
he
were
a
ghost,
shook
hands
with
Tom,
looking
him
flush
in
the
eye.
Then
she
wet
her
lips,
and
without
turning
around
spoke
to
her
husband
in
a
soft,
coarse
voice:
“Get
some
chairs,
why
don’t
you,
so
somebody
can
sit
down.”
“Oh,
sure,”
agreed
Wilson
hurriedly,
and
went
toward
the
little
office,
mingling
immediately
with
the
cement
colour
of
the
walls.
A
white
ashen
dust
veiled
his
dark
suit
and
his
pale
hair
as
it
veiled
everything
in
the
vicinity—except
his
wife,
who
moved
close
to
Tom.
“I
want
to
see
you,”
said
Tom
intently.
“Get
on
the
next
train.”
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El Gran Gatsby — C1 Inglés | Cuentana