Vladimir Nabokov. Una cuestión de suerte
He said something as they passed through the corridor of the sleeper. She quickened her step. She crossed the joggy connecting plates to the diner, which came after the sleeper. And here, suddenly, in the vestibule of the diner, with a kind of rough tenderness the man clutched her by the upper arm. She stifled a scream and yanked away her arm so violently that she nearly lost her footing.
The man said in German, with a foreign accent, "My precious!"
Elena made a sudden about-face.