Explore "Sanine" by Mikhail Artsybashev on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The lamps burned dimly in the suffocating atmosphere of the crowded rail way-carriage, shedding their fitful light on grimy, ragged passengers wedged tightly together, and wreathed in smoke. Sanine sat next to three peasants. As he got in, they were engaged in talk, and one half-hidden by the gloom, said:
"Things are bad, you say?"