Vladimir Nabokov. El timbre
Weiner bit his lip, looked away with an intent expression, then addressed him again. "Wait a minute.... I seem to recall... I seem to recall a Madame Kind who came to see me here not long ago and was also under the impression— We'll know for sure in a minute. Be kind enough to step into my office."
The office remained a blur in Nikolay's vision. He did not take his eyes off Weiner's impeccable calvities as the latter bent over his appointment book.
"We'll know for sure in a minute," he repeated, sunning his fingers across the pages. &quo