my solitude and knowing that as it was Thursday Anton Antonitch's door would be closed, I thought of Simonov.

Climbing up to his fourth storey I was thinking that the man disliked me and that it was a mistake to go and see him. But as it always happened that such reflections impelled me, as though purposely, to put myself into a false position, I went in. It was almost a year since I had last seen Simonov.