heavily adumbrated, diamond-bright eye squinting like that of a timorous steed.
like literally outlined? like creased?
Sometime later, as I sat on the edge of the only chair in my garret and held her by her slender young hips (she was combing her soft hair and tossing her head back with every stroke), her dim smile changed all at once into an odd quiver and she placed one hand on my shoulder, staring down at me as …
Oh, she bore it gamely enough—with a kind of dazed cheerfulness. Once, however, quite suddenly she started to sob in a sympathetic railway carriage. “The dog,” she said, “the dog we left. I cannot forget the poor dog.” The honesty of her grief shocked me, as we had never had any dog. “I know,” she …
it is with something of a shudder that I recall the meretricious imitation she gave of reaching her vocal climax
When nowadays in some Russian household the gramophone is put on, and I hear her canned contralto
