Foma nodded his head toward her and with a consciousness of his superiority over her, thought: "She has also lost her way, like the other one." At this recollection he shook his head, as though he wanted to frighten away the thought of Medinskaya, and quickened his steps.
Night was coming on, and the air was fresh.

A cold, invigorating wind was violently raging in the street, driving the dust along the sidewalks and throwing it into the faces of the passers-by.

It was dark, and people were hastily striding along in the darkness.

Foma wrinkled his face, for the dust filled his eyes, and thought: "If it is a woman I meet now--then it will mean that Sophya Pavlovna will receive me in a friendly way, as before.

I am going to see her tomorrow.