Vladimir Nabokov. Un tipo bien plantado
He tiptoed fast to the door, placed his eye to the peephole, but could see nothing. The person behind the door rang again, and the copper ring was heard to knock. No matter—we can't let him in even if we wished to.
"Who's that?" asked Kostya insinuatingly through the door.
A cracked voice inquired, "Please, is Frau Bergmann back?"
"Not yet," replied Kostya. "Why?"
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