Vladimir Nabokov. Una belleza rusa
Vladimir Nabokov. A RUSSIAN BEAUTY
But presently her life darkened. Something was finished, people were already getting up to leave. How quickly! Her father died, she moved to another street. She stopped seeing her friends, knitted the little bonnets in fashion, and gave cheap French lessons at some ladies' club or other. In this way her life dragged on to the age of thirty.
She was still the same beauty, with that enchanting slant of the widely spaced eyes