Vladimir Nabokov. Un tipo bien plantado
The taxi pulled up in front of an old, coal-black house with green shutters. They climbed to the fourth landing and there she stopped and said, "And what if there's somebody else there? How do you know that I'll let you in? What's that on your lip?"
"A cold sore," said Kostya, "just a cold sore. Hurry up. Open. Let's dismiss the whole world and its troubles. Quick. Open."
They entered. A hallway with a large wardrobe, a kitchen, and a small bedroom.
"No, please wait. I'm hungry. We shall first have supper. Give me that fifty-mark note, I'll take the occasion to change it for you."
"A