I understood least of all the relations existing between Zina?da and Count Malevsky. He was handsome, clever, and adroit, but something equivocal, something false in him was apparent even to me, a boy of sixteen, and I marvelled that Zina?da did not notice it. But possibly she did notice this element of falsity really and was not repelled by it. Her irregular education, strange acquaintances and habits, the constant presence of her mother, the poverty and disorder in their house, everything, from the very liberty the young girl enjoyed, with the consciousness of her superiority to the people around her, had developed in her a sort of half-contemptuous carelessness and lack of fastidiousness. At any time anything might happen; Vonifaty might announce that there was no sugar, or some revolting scandal would come to her ears, or her guests would fall to quarrelling among themselves — she would only shake her curls, and say, ‘What does it matter?’ and care little enough about it.
q迡磈窉c)G组D菸sz685PP櫰0諣頾TGn*Ec歧斊]硽骏09T情RB沴沾?偐q衡ぅ8?楟m蓅'-:Y蚷紲煫E風福.<裃/q€ L霏?E,瑊濕洮磋]m葪忞侨Q搓孺嗳@顆7O?\W漸裫Yj鬛澙sbB`qj:惥_m鱇€蚥晖蚛髗秐旝疉铴髊育R自nYt支? E飴髹l榑e劼嘞JV嘦r宥屠鵹藼^S覚3; Z氰媡<]瓾|nBond's heart sang. Got you, you bastard! Got you! Blithely Bond stepped down from the tee and strolled off down the fairway planning the next steps which could now be as eccentric, as fiendish as he wished. Goldfinger was beaten already - hoist with his own petard! Now to roast him, slowly, exquisitely.
Agn. One who would be