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El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 8, Página 4
Through
this
twilight
universe
Daisy
began
to
move
again
with
the
season;
suddenly
she
was
again
keeping
half
a
dozen
dates
a
day
with
half
a
dozen
men,
and
drowsing
asleep
at
dawn
with
the
beads
and
chiffon
of
an
evening-dress
tangled
among
dying
orchids
on
the
floor
beside
her
bed.
And
all
the
time
something
within
her
was
crying
for
a
decision.
She
wanted
her
life
shaped
now,
immediately—and
the
decision
must
be
made
by
some
force—of
love,
of
money,
of
unquestionable
practicality—that
was
close
at
hand.
That
force
took
shape
in
the
middle
of
spring
with
the
arrival
of
Tom
Buchanan.
There
was
a
wholesome
bulkiness
about
his
person
and
his
position,
and
Daisy
was
flattered.
Doubtless
there
was
a
certain
struggle
and
a
certain
relief.
The
letter
reached
Gatsby
while
he
was
still
at
Oxford.
It
was
dawn
now
on
Long
Island
and
we
went
about
opening
the
rest
of
the
windows
downstairs,
filling
the
house
with
grey-turning,
gold-turning
light.
The
shadow
of
a
tree
fell
abruptly
across
the
dew
and
ghostly
birds
began
to
sing
among
the
blue
leaves.
There
was
a
slow,
pleasant
movement
in
the
air,
scarcely
a
wind,
promising
a
cool,
lovely
day.
“I
don’t
think
she
ever
loved
him.”
Gatsby
turned
around
from
a
window
and
looked
at
me
challengingly.
“You
must
remember,
old
sport,
she
was
very
excited
this
afternoon.
He
told
her
those
things
in
a
way
that
frightened
her—that
made
it
look
as
if
I
was
some
kind
of
cheap
sharper.
And
the
result
was
she
hardly
knew
what
she
was
saying.”
He
sat
down
gloomily.
“Of
course
she
might
have
loved
him
just
for
a
minute,
when
they
were
first
married—and
loved
me
more
even
then,
do
you
see?”
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El Gran Gatsby — C1 Inglés | Cuentana