"He bent and laid his lips on her hands, which were cold and lifeless. She drew them away, and he turned to the door, found his coat and hat under the gaslight of the hall, and plunged out into the winter night bursting with the belated eloquence of the inarticulate."
Edith Wharton, The Age of Innocence.
Hedy Lamarr by Martin Munkacsi
14 hours ago