Shtchitov in petticoats. Kolosov quarrelled with her and made it up
again half a dozen times in a month. She was passionately fond of him,
though sometimes, during their misunderstandings, she would vow and
declare that she thirsted for his blood.... And Andrei, too, could not
get on without her. Kolosov looked at me, and responded serenely,
'Perhaps so.'

'Not perhaps so,' I shouted, 'but certainly!'

Kolosov at last got sick of my reproaches.... He got up and put on his
cap.

'Where are you going?'

'For a walk; you and Puzyritsin have given me a headache between you.'

'You are angry with me?'

'No,' he answered, smiling his sweet smile, and holding out his hand to
me.

'Well, anyway, what do you wish me to tell Varia?'

'Eh?' ... He thought a little. 'She told you,' he said, 'that we had
read Pushkin together.... Remind her of one line of Pushkin's.' 'What
line? what line?' I asked impatiently. 'This one:

"What has been will not be again."'

With those words he went out of the room. I followed him; on the stairs