And the conversation passed to forecasts of the coming race, the only thing Vronsky could think of just now.

“Come along, I’ve finished,” said Vronsky, and getting up he went to the door. Yashvin got up too, stretching his long legs and his long back.

“It’s too early for me to dine, but I must have a drink. I’ll come along directly. Hi, wine!” he shouted, in his rich voice, that always rang out so loudly at drill, and set the windows shaking now.

“No, all right,” he shouted again immediately after. “You’re going home, so I’ll go with you.”

And he walked out with Vronsky.