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El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 3, Página 26
He
hesitated.
“No
harm
in
trying,”
he
said.
The
caterwauling
horns
had
reached
a
crescendo
and
I
turned
away
and
cut
across
the
lawn
toward
home.
I
glanced
back
once.
A
wafer
of
a
moon
was
shining
over
Gatsby’s
house,
making
the
night
fine
as
before,
and
surviving
the
laughter
and
the
sound
of
his
still
glowing
garden.
A
sudden
emptiness
seemed
to
flow
now
from
the
windows
and
the
great
doors,
endowing
with
complete
isolation
the
figure
of
the
host,
who
stood
on
the
porch,
his
hand
up
in
a
formal
gesture
of
farewell.
Reading
over
what
I
have
written
so
far,
I
see
I
have
given
the
impression
that
the
events
of
three
nights
several
weeks
apart
were
all
that
absorbed
me.
On
the
contrary,
they
were
merely
casual
events
in
a
crowded
summer,
and,
until
much
later,
they
absorbed
me
infinitely
less
than
my
personal
affairs.
Most
of
the
time
I
worked.
In
the
early
morning
the
sun
threw
my
shadow
westward
as
I
hurried
down
the
white
chasms
of
lower
New
York
to
the
Probity
Trust.
I
knew
the
other
clerks
and
young
bond-salesmen
by
their
first
names,
and
lunched
with
them
in
dark,
crowded
restaurants
on
little
pig
sausages
and
mashed
potatoes
and
coffee.
I
even
had
a
short
affair
with
a
girl
who
lived
in
Jersey
City
and
worked
in
the
accounting
department,
but
her
brother
began
throwing
mean
looks
in
my
direction,
so
when
she
went
on
her
vacation
in
July
I
let
it
blow
quietly
away.
I
took
dinner
usually
at
the
Yale
Club—for
some
reason
it
was
the
gloomiest
event
of
my
day—and
then
I
went
upstairs
to
the
library
and
studied
investments
and
securities
for
a
conscientious
hour.
There
were
generally
a
few
rioters
around,
but
they
never
came
into
the
library,
so
it
was
a
good
place
to
work.
After
that,
if
the
night
was
mellow,
I
strolled
down
Madison
Avenue
past
the
old
Murray
Hill
Hotel,
and
over
33rd
Street
to
the
Pennsylvania
Station.
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El Gran Gatsby — C1 Inglés | Cuentana