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لوحة المفاتيح

صفحة 355 من 1294

المؤلف: Fyodor Dostoevsky

الوقت0:00
السرعة (WPM)0.0
الدقة100.0%

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All his clothes were fresh from the tailor's and were all right,
except for being too new and too distinctly appropriate. Even the
stylish new round hat had the same significance. Pyotr Petrovitch
treated it too respectfully and held it too carefully in his
hands. The exquisite pair of lavender gloves, real Louvain, told
the same tale, if only from the fact of his not wearing them, but
carrying them in his hand for show. Light and youthful colours
predominated in Pyotr Petrovitch's attire. He wore a charming
summer jacket of a fawn shade, light thin trousers, a waistcoat
of the same, new and fine linen, a cravat of the lightest cambric
with pink stripes on it, and the best of it was, this all suited
Pyotr Petrovitch. His very fresh and even handsome face looked
younger than his forty-five years at all times. His dark,
mutton-chop whiskers made an agreeable setting on both sides,
growing thickly upon his shining, clean-shaven chin.

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