Vladimir Nabokov. El retorno de Chorb
"The night," said Chorb, scarcely unclenching his teeth. The girl cocked her head, swung her handbag, and replied: "Twenty-five."
He nodded. Only much later, having glanced at her casually, Chorb noted with indifference that she was pretty enough, though considerably jaded, and that her bobbed hair was blond.
She had been in that hotel several times before, with other customers, and the wan, sharp-nosed lackey, who was tripping down as they were going upstairs, gave her an amiable wink. While Chorb and she walked along the corridor, they could hear, from behind one of the doors, a bed creaking, rhythmically and weightily, as if