The little street was very silent and quiet and had, like so many Petrograd streets, a decorous intimacy with the eighteenth century ghosts thronging its air....
"Afterwards, how I was to know that street, every stone and corner of it! It seems wonderful to me now that I trod its pavement that night so carelessly.

My destination was a square little house at the corner on the right.

Andrey Vassilievitch boasted a whole house to himself, a rare pride in our city, as you know.

When I was inside the doors I knew at once that it was not Andrey Vassilievitch's house at all.

Some stronger spirit than his was there.