Vladimir Nabokov. Labios contra labios
Vladimir Nabokov. LIPS TO LIPS
"Obvious misunderstanding," put in Galatov at top speed.
"Leave me alone," cried Ilya Borisovich, wrenched himself free, scooped up his bowler from the counter, and went out, still putting on his coat.
He kept whispering incoherently as he marched along the sidewalk; then he spread his hands: he had forgotten his cane!
Automatically he continued to walk, but presently with a quiet little stumble came to a stop as if the clockwork had run out.
He would go back for the thing once the performance had started. Must wait a few minutes.
Cars sped by, tramcars rang their bells, the night was clear, dry, spruced