"It's empty, there's no fire burning, and it's chilly all over." Vyesovshchikov sat silent, his eyes screwed up.

Taking a box of cigarettes from his pocket he leisurely lit one of them, and looking at the gray curl of smoke dissolve before him he grinned like a big, surly dog.
"Yes, I guess it's cold.

And the floor is filled with frozen cockroaches, and even the mice are frozen, too, I suppose.

Pelagueya Nilovna, will you let me sleep here to-night, please ?" he asked hoarsely without looking at her.
"Why, of course, Nikolay! You needn't even ask it!" the mother quickly replied.

She felt embarrassed and ill at ease in Nikolay's presence, and did not know what to speak to him about.