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El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 8, Página 5
Suddenly
he
came
out
with
a
curious
remark.
“In
any
case,”
he
said,
“it
was
just
personal.”
What
could
you
make
of
that,
except
to
suspect
some
intensity
in
his
conception
of
the
affair
that
couldn’t
be
measured?
He
came
back
from
France
when
Tom
and
Daisy
were
still
on
their
wedding
trip,
and
made
a
miserable
but
irresistible
journey
to
Louisville
on
the
last
of
his
army
pay.
He
stayed
there
a
week,
walking
the
streets
where
their
footsteps
had
clicked
together
through
the
November
night
and
revisiting
the
out-of-the-way
places
to
which
they
had
driven
in
her
white
car.
Just
as
Daisy’s
house
had
always
seemed
to
him
more
mysterious
and
gay
than
other
houses,
so
his
idea
of
the
city
itself,
even
though
she
was
gone
from
it,
was
pervaded
with
a
melancholy
beauty.
He
left
feeling
that
if
he
had
searched
harder,
he
might
have
found
her—that
he
was
leaving
her
behind.
The
day-coach—he
was
penniless
now—was
hot.
He
went
out
to
the
open
vestibule
and
sat
down
on
a
folding-chair,
and
the
station
slid
away
and
the
backs
of
unfamiliar
buildings
moved
by.
Then
out
into
the
spring
fields,
where
a
yellow
trolley
raced
them
for
a
minute
with
people
in
it
who
might
once
have
seen
the
pale
magic
of
her
face
along
the
casual
street.
The
track
curved
and
now
it
was
going
away
from
the
sun,
which,
as
it
sank
lower,
seemed
to
spread
itself
in
benediction
over
the
vanishing
city
where
she
had
drawn
her
breath.
He
stretched
out
his
hand
desperately
as
if
to
snatch
only
a
wisp
of
air,
to
save
a
fragment
of
the
spot
that
she
had
made
lovely
for
him.
But
it
was
all
going
by
too
fast
now
for
his
blurred
eyes
and
he
knew
that
he
had
lost
that
part
of
it,
the
freshest
and
the
best,
forever.
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El Gran Gatsby — C1 Inglés | Cuentana