Once again, after the evening of poets called "The Silver Age", Yesenin left the building, wrapped in a warm jacket, it was winter. Looking around, he saw the lady he was looking for both during and after the evening

"Anna! Anna!"

Running up to the girl, he said out of breath

"Annushka, let me walk you home!"

He looked at Akhmatova completely differently, not in a well-fed manner, not with a hint of hostility, but with some kind of delight, as if he had been replaced