Vladimir Nabokov. Lik
Vladimir Nabokov. LIK
"Yes. Imagine!" said the other.
"It can't be," repeated Lik. "You see, I always thought— This is awful! You didn't give him my address, did you?"
"I did. I understand, though. One feels disgusted and sorry at the same time. Kicked out of everywhere, embittered, has a family, and so on."
"Listen, do me a favor. Can't you tell him I've left."
"If I see him, I'll tell him. But... well, I just happened to run into him down at the port. My, what lovely yachts they have down there. That's what I call fortunate people. You live on the water, and sai