湖底女人

两个下流人之间的令人厌恶的风流帐，过热的爱情，过量的美酒，过分的亲近，导致了残暴的恨意、杀人致死的冲动和死亡的结局。

A hatless pale man with a face like a building superintendent was watching the work and looking as if it was breaking his heart.

One drop of that in the hollow of your throat and the matched pink pearls started falling on you like summer rain.

The edges of the folded handkerchief in the breast pocket looked sharp enough to slice bread.

She looked playful and eager, but not quite sure of herself, like a new kitten in a house where they don’t care much about kittens.

The minutes went by on tiptoe, with their fingers to their lips.

“I don’t like your manner,” Kingsley said in a voice you could have cracked a Brazil nut on. “That’s all right,” I said. “I’m not selling it.”

He reared back as if I had hung a week-old mackerel under his nose.

He licked the word around on his brown lips, tasting it.

Doctors, as a rule, are the least curious of men. While they are still interns they hear enough secrets to last them a lifetime.

..., his calm eyes full of nothing.

He moved quietly off into the shadows and became one of them himself.

... deadly long two minutes crept by. I spent some of the time breathing, but not all.

The hop was tall and thin and yellow and not young and as cool as a slice of chicken in aspic.

Pale ivory skin, dark and lovely eyes, hair as light as hair can be and as dark as night can be.

The upper part of his face meant business. The lower part was just saying goodby.

He looked at us like a horse that has got into the wrong stable.

The self-operating elevator was carpeted in red plush. It had an elderly perfume in it, like three widows drinking tea.

“Police business,” he said almost gently, “is a hell of a problem. It’s a good deal like politics. It asks for the highest type of men, and there’s nothing in it to attract the highest type of men.