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56
El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 3, Página 7
The
first
supper—there
would
be
another
one
after
midnight—was
now
being
served,
and
Jordan
invited
me
to
join
her
own
party,
who
were
spread
around
a
table
on
the
other
side
of
the
garden.
There
were
three
married
couples
and
Jordan’s
escort,
a
persistent
undergraduate
given
to
violent
innuendo,
and
obviously
under
the
impression
that
sooner
or
later
Jordan
was
going
to
yield
him
up
her
person
to
a
greater
or
lesser
degree.
Instead
of
rambling,
this
party
had
preserved
a
dignified
homogeneity,
and
assumed
to
itself
the
function
of
representing
the
staid
nobility
of
the
countryside—East
Egg
condescending
to
West
Egg
and
carefully
on
guard
against
its
spectroscopic
gaiety.
“Let’s
get
out,”
whispered
Jordan,
after
a
somehow
wasteful
and
inappropriate
half-hour;
“this
is
much
too
polite
for
me.”
We
got
up,
and
she
explained
that
we
were
going
to
find
the
host:
I
had
never
met
him,
she
said,
and
it
was
making
me
uneasy.
The
undergraduate
nodded
in
a
cynical,
melancholy
way.
The
bar,
where
we
glanced
first,
was
crowded,
but
Gatsby
was
not
there.
She
couldn’t
find
him
from
the
top
of
the
steps,
and
he
wasn’t
on
the
veranda.
On
a
chance
we
tried
an
important-looking
door,
and
walked
into
a
high
Gothic
library,
panelled
with
carved
English
oak,
and
probably
transported
complete
from
some
ruin
overseas.
A
stout,
middle-aged
man,
with
enormous
owl-eyed
spectacles,
was
sitting
somewhat
drunk
on
the
edge
of
a
great
table,
staring
with
unsteady
concentration
at
the
shelves
of
books.
As
we
entered
he
wheeled
excitedly
around
and
examined
Jordan
from
head
to
foot.
“What
do
you
think?”
he
demanded
impetuously.
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El Gran Gatsby — C1 Inglés | Cuentana