Vladimir Nabokov. Una cuestión de honor
And a new sad day was dawning.
"So at nine you will be at his house," said Anton Petrovich, lurching out of his chair.
"At nine we'll be at his house," Gnushke replied like an echo.
"We'll get in five hours of sleep," said Mityushin.
Anton Petrovich smoothed his hat into shape (he had been sitting on it all the while), caught Mityushin's hand, held it for a moment, lifted it, and pressed it to his cheek.
"Come, come, you shouldn't," mumbled Mityushin and, as before, addressed the sleeping lady, "Our friend is leaving,