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El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 7, Página 27
“What
do
I
owe
you?”
“Dollar
twenty.”
The
relentless
beating
heat
was
beginning
to
confuse
me
and
I
had
a
bad
moment
there
before
I
realized
that
so
far
his
suspicions
hadn’t
alighted
on
Tom.
He
had
discovered
that
Myrtle
had
some
sort
of
life
apart
from
him
in
another
world,
and
the
shock
had
made
him
physically
sick.
I
stared
at
him
and
then
at
Tom,
who
had
made
a
parallel
discovery
less
than
an
hour
before—and
it
occurred
to
me
that
there
was
no
difference
between
men,
in
intelligence
or
race,
so
profound
as
the
difference
between
the
sick
and
the
well.
Wilson
was
so
sick
that
he
looked
guilty,
unforgivably
guilty—as
if
he
had
just
got
some
poor
girl
with
child.
“I’ll
let
you
have
that
car,”
said
Tom.
“I’ll
send
it
over
tomorrow
afternoon.”
That
locality
was
always
vaguely
disquieting,
even
in
the
broad
glare
of
afternoon,
and
now
I
turned
my
head
as
though
I
had
been
warned
of
something
behind.
Over
the
ash-heaps
the
giant
eyes
of
Doctor
T.
J.
Eckleburg
kept
their
vigil,
but
I
perceived,
after
a
moment,
that
other
eyes
were
regarding
us
with
peculiar
intensity
from
less
than
twenty
feet
away.
In
one
of
the
windows
over
the
garage
the
curtains
had
been
moved
aside
a
little,
and
Myrtle
Wilson
was
peering
down
at
the
car.
So
engrossed
was
she
that
she
had
no
consciousness
of
being
observed,
and
one
emotion
after
another
crept
into
her
face
like
objects
into
a
slowly
developing
picture.
Her
expression
was
curiously
familiar—it
was
an
expression
I
had
often
seen
on
women’s
faces,
but
on
Myrtle
Wilson’s
face
it
seemed
purposeless
and
inexplicable
until
I
realized
that
her
eyes,
wide
with
jealous
terror,
were
fixed
not
on
Tom,
but
on
Jordan
Baker,
whom
she
took
to
be
his
wife.
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El Gran Gatsby — C1 Inglés | Cuentana