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El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 8, Página 9
Up
in
the
city,
I
tried
for
a
while
to
list
the
quotations
on
an
interminable
amount
of
stock,
then
I
fell
asleep
in
my
swivel-chair.
Just
before
noon
the
phone
woke
me,
and
I
started
up
with
sweat
breaking
out
on
my
forehead.
It
was
Jordan
Baker;
she
often
called
me
up
at
this
hour
because
the
uncertainty
of
her
own
movements
between
hotels
and
clubs
and
private
houses
made
her
hard
to
find
in
any
other
way.
Usually
her
voice
came
over
the
wire
as
something
fresh
and
cool,
as
if
a
divot
from
a
green
golf-links
had
come
sailing
in
at
the
office
window,
but
this
morning
it
seemed
harsh
and
dry.
“I’ve
left
Daisy’s
house,”
she
said.
“I’m
at
Hempstead,
and
I’m
going
down
to
Southampton
this
afternoon.”
Probably
it
had
been
tactful
to
leave
Daisy’s
house,
but
the
act
annoyed
me,
and
her
next
remark
made
me
rigid.
“You
weren’t
so
nice
to
me
last
night.”
“How
could
it
have
mattered
then?”
Silence
for
a
moment.
Then:
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El Gran Gatsby — C1 Inglés | Cuentana