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El Gran Gatsby
Capítulo 9, Página 6
“Young
Parke’s
in
trouble,”
he
said
rapidly.
“They
picked
him
up
when
he
handed
the
bonds
over
the
counter.
They
got
a
circular
from
New
York
giving
’em
the
numbers
just
five
minutes
before.
What
d’you
know
about
that,
hey?
You
never
can
tell
in
these
hick
towns—”
“Hello!”
I
interrupted
breathlessly.
“Look
here—this
isn’t
Mr.
Gatsby.
Mr.
Gatsby’s
dead.”
There
was
a
long
silence
on
the
other
end
of
the
wire,
followed
by
an
exclamation…
then
a
quick
squawk
as
the
connection
was
broken.
I
think
it
was
on
the
third
day
that
a
telegram
signed
Henry
C.
Gatz
arrived
from
a
town
in
Minnesota.
It
said
only
that
the
sender
was
leaving
immediately
and
to
postpone
the
funeral
until
he
came.
It
was
Gatsby’s
father,
a
solemn
old
man,
very
helpless
and
dismayed,
bundled
up
in
a
long
cheap
ulster
against
the
warm
September
day.
His
eyes
leaked
continuously
with
excitement,
and
when
I
took
the
bag
and
umbrella
from
his
hands
he
began
to
pull
so
incessantly
at
his
sparse
grey
beard
that
I
had
difficulty
in
getting
off
his
coat.
He
was
on
the
point
of
collapse,
so
I
took
him
into
the
music-room
and
made
him
sit
down
while
I
sent
for
something
to
eat.
But
he
wouldn’t
eat,
and
the
glass
of
milk
spilled
from
his
trembling
hand.
“I
saw
it
in
the
Chicago
newspaper,”
he
said.
“It
was
all
in
the
Chicago
newspaper.
I
started
right
away.”
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El Gran Gatsby — C1 Inglés | Cuentana