He was wrapped in scarfs and shawls and hoods and was standing motionless in the shadow cast by a huge fox-skin coat. Volodia exclaimed recollecting himself. Let me present my friend Tchetchevitsin. A few minutes later Volodia and his friend were sitting in the dining-room drinking tea, dazed by their noisy reception and still rosy with cold. The room was warm, and the boys felt heat and cold jostling one another in their bodies, neither wanting to concede its place to the other.
Old age comes before one has time to heave a sigh.
Volodia's three sisters, Katia, Sonia, and Masha, the oldest of whom was eleven, sat around the table with their eyes fixed on their new acquaintance. Tchetchevitsin was the same age and size as Volodia, but he was neither plump nor fair like him. He was swarthy and thin and his face was covered with freckles. He was taciturn and morose, and he never once smiled. The girls immediately decided that he must be a very clever and learned person.