Pyotr Ivanovitch had a special pleasure in the fresh air after the smell of incense, of the corpse, and of carbolic acid.
“Where to?” asked the coachman.
“It’s not too late. I’ll still go round to Fyodor Vassilievitch’s.”
And Pyotr Ivanovitch drove there. And he did, in fact, find them just finishing the first rubber, so that he came just at the right time to take a hand.