She took his hand in both of hers, and drew it to her waist, not taking her eyes off him.
"Well, I'm very glad," he said, coldly looking at her, her hair, her dress, which he knew she had put on for him.
He liked it all, but he had already liked it so many times!
And the stern, stony expression that she so dreaded settled upon his face.
Book 6, chapter 32
2 comments:
Anna Karenina, War and Peace, animal farm, 1982 ... are few novels i adore much.
You mean 1984, I think.
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