Vladimir Nabokov. El Elfo Patata
She hastened to pick up her crumpled gloves.
"Well, now you know. Nothing more is necessary. I must be going."
A sudden thought stabbed Fred. Acute shame joined the quivering joy. He inquired, fingering the tassel of his dressing gown.
"And... and what is he like? He is not—"
"Oh, on the contrary," replied Nora rapidly. "A big boy, like all boys," And again she burst into tears.
Fred lowered his eyes.
"I would like to see him."
Joyously he corrected himself: "Oh, I understand! He must not know that I am like this. But perhaps you might arrange—"
"Yes,