Vladimir Nabokov. Batir de alas
"You overdid it on the dance floor last night, Mr. Kern," she replied. The olive youth and the little fellow who recognized only Bible and billiards laughed, the first with a hearty ha-ha, the second very softly, with raised eyebrows.
Kern said with a frown, "I'd like to ask you not to play at night. I don't have an easy time falling asleep."
Isabel slashed his face with a rapid, radiant glance.
"You had better ask your dreams, not me, about that."
And she began talking to her neighbor about the next day's ski competition.
For some minutes already Kern had felt his lips