The scarf round Vanyusha's head, his felt boots and sleepy face, seemed to be calling his master to a new life of labour, hardship, and activity.
'True enough! Good-bye!' said he, feeling for the unfastened hook and eye on his coat.
In spite of advice to mollify the coachman by another tip, he put on his cap and stood in the middle of the room.

The friends kissed once, then again, and after a pause, a third time.

The man in the fur-lined coat approached the table and emptied a champagne glass, then took the plain little man's hand and blushed.
'Ah well, I will speak out all the same ...

I must and will be frank with you because I am fond of you ...

Of course you love her--I always thought so--don't you ?' 'Yes,' answered his friend, smiling still more gently.
'And perhaps...' 'Please sir, I have orders to put out the candles,' said the sleepy attendant, who had been listening to the last part of the conversation and wondering why gentlefolk always talk about one and the same thing.
'To whom shall I make out the bill?
To you, sir ?' he added, knowing whom to address and turning to the tall man.
'To me,' replied the tall man.