For the first time in my long acquaintance with Andrey Vassilievitch he interested me.

The little man was distressed by the heat and dirt; his fingers were always flickering about his clothes.
He was intensely polite to every one, especially to Trenchard, paying him many compliments about England and the English.

The English were the only "sportsmen" in the world.

He had been once in London for a week; it had rained very much, but one afternoon it had been fine, and then what clothes he had seen! But the City! He had been down into the City and was lost in admiration; he had also been lost in practical earnest and had appealed to one of the splendid policemen as to the way to Holborn Viaduct, a name that he was quite unable to pronounce.

This incident he told us several times.