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El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 8, Página 11
We
talked
like
that
for
a
while,
and
then
abruptly
we
weren’t
talking
any
longer.
I
don’t
know
which
of
us
hung
up
with
a
sharp
click,
but
I
know
I
didn’t
care.
I
couldn’t
have
talked
to
her
across
a
tea-table
that
day
if
I
never
talked
to
her
again
in
this
world.
I
called
Gatsby’s
house
a
few
minutes
later,
but
the
line
was
busy.
I
tried
four
times;
finally
an
exasperated
central
told
me
the
wire
was
being
kept
open
for
long
distance
from
Detroit.
Taking
out
my
timetable,
I
drew
a
small
circle
around
the
three-fifty
train.
Then
I
leaned
back
in
my
chair
and
tried
to
think.
It
was
just
noon.
When
I
passed
the
ash-heaps
on
the
train
that
morning
I
had
crossed
deliberately
to
the
other
side
of
the
car.
I
supposed
there’d
be
a
curious
crowd
around
there
all
day
with
little
boys
searching
for
dark
spots
in
the
dust,
and
some
garrulous
man
telling
over
and
over
what
had
happened,
until
it
became
less
and
less
real
even
to
him
and
he
could
tell
it
no
longer,
and
Myrtle
Wilson’s
tragic
achievement
was
forgotten.
Now
I
want
to
go
back
a
little
and
tell
what
happened
at
the
garage
after
we
left
there
the
night
before.
They
had
difficulty
in
locating
the
sister,
Catherine.
She
must
have
broken
her
rule
against
drinking
that
night,
for
when
she
arrived
she
was
stupid
with
liquor
and
unable
to
understand
that
the
ambulance
had
already
gone
to
Flushing.
When
they
convinced
her
of
this,
she
immediately
fainted,
as
if
that
was
the
intolerable
part
of
the
affair.
Someone,
kind
or
curious,
took
her
in
his
car
and
drove
her
in
the
wake
of
her
sister’s
body.
Until
long
after
midnight
a
changing
crowd
lapped
up
against
the
front
of
the
garage,
while
George
Wilson
rocked
himself
back
and
forth
on
the
couch
inside.
For
a
while
the
door
of
the
office
was
open,
and
everyone
who
came
into
the
garage
glanced
irresistibly
through
it.
Finally
someone
said
it
was
a
shame,
and
closed
the
door.
Michaelis
and
several
other
men
were
with
him;
first,
four
or
five
men,
later
two
or
three
men.
Still
later
Michaelis
had
to
ask
the
last
stranger
to
wait
there
fifteen
minutes
longer,
while
he
went
back
to
his
own
place
and
made
a
pot
of
coffee.
After
that,
he
stayed
there
alone
with
Wilson
until
dawn.
About
three
o’clock
the
quality
of
Wilson’s
incoherent
muttering
changed—he
grew
quieter
and
began
to
talk
about
the
yellow
car.
He
announced
that
he
had
a
way
of
finding
out
whom
the
yellow
car
belonged
to,
and
then
he
blurted
out
that
a
couple
of
months
ago
his
wife
had
come
from
the
city
with
her
face
bruised
and
her
nose
swollen.
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El Gran Gatsby — C1 Inglés | Cuentana