roubles for the underclothes- they were bought in the lot- which makes exactly nine roubles fifty-five copecks. Forty-five copecks change in coppers. Will you take it? And so, Rodya, you are set up with a complete new rig-out, for your overcoat will serve, and even has a style of its own. That comes from getting one's clothes from Sharmer's! As for your socks and other things, I leave them to you; we've twenty-five roubles left. And as for Pashenka and paying for your lodging, don't you worry. I tell you she'll trust you for anything. And now, brother, let me change your linen, for I daresay you will throw off your illness with your shirt." "Let me be! I don't want to!" Raskolnikov waved him off. He had listened with disgust to Razumihin's efforts to be playful about his purchases. "Come, brother, don't tell me I've been trudging around for nothing," Razumihin insisted. "Nastasya, don't be bashful, but help me- that's it," and in spite of Raskolnikov's resistance he changed his linen. The latter sank back on the pillows and for a minute or two said nothing. "It will be long before I get rid of them," he thought. "What money was all that bought with?" he asked at last, gazing at the wall. "Money? Why, your own, what the messenger brought from Vahrushin, your mother sent it. Have you forgotten that, too?" "I remember now," said Raskolnikov after a long, sullen silence. Razumihin looked at him, frowning and uneasy. The door opened and a tall, stout man whose appearance seemed familiar to Raskolnikov came in. "Zossimov! At last!" cried Razumihin, delighted. Chapter Four ZOSSIMOV WAS a tall, fat man with a puffy, colourless, clean-shaven face and straight flaxen hair. He wore spectacles, and a big gold ring on his fat finger. He was twenty-seven. He had on a light grey fashionable loose coat, light summer trousers, and everything about him loose, fashionable and spick and able, his linen was irreproachable, his watch-chain was massive. In manner he was slow and, as it were, nonchalant, and at the same time studiously free and easy; he made efforts to conceal his self-importance, but it was apparent at every instant. All his acquaintances found him tedious, but said he was clever at his work. "I've been to you twice to-day, brother. You see, he's come to himself," cried Razumihin. "I see, I see; and how do we feel now, eh?" said Zossimov to Raskolnikov, watching him carefully and, sitting down at the foot of the sofa, he settled himself as comfortably as he could. "He is still depressed," Razumihin went on. "We've just changed his linen and he almost cried." "That's very natural; you might have put it off if he did not wish it.... His pulse is first-rate. Is your head still aching, eh?" "I am well, I am perfectly well!" Raskolnikov declared positively and irritably. He raised himself on the sofa and looked at them with glittering eyes, but sank back on to the pillow at once and turned to the wall. Zossimov watched him intently. "Very good.... Going on all right," he said lazily. "Has he eaten anything?" They told him, and

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roubles for the underclothes- they were bought in the lot- which makes exactly nine roubles fifty-five copecks. Forty-five copecks change in coppers. Will you take it? And so, Rodya, you are set up with a complete new rig-out, for your overcoat will serve, and even has a style of its own. That comes from getting one's clothes from Sharmer's! As for your socks and other things, I leave them to you; we've twenty-five roubles left. And as for Pashenka and paying for your lodging, don't you worry. I tell you she'll trust you for anything. And now, brother, let me change your linen, for I daresay you will throw off your illness with your shirt." "Let me be! I don't want to!" Raskolnikov waved him off. He had listened with disgust to Razumihin's efforts to be playful about his purchases. "Come, brother, don't tell me I've been trudging around for nothing," Razumihin insisted. "Nastasya, don't be bashful, but help me- that's it," and in spite of Raskolnikov's resistance he changed his linen. The latter sank back on the pillows and for a minute or two said nothing. "It will be long before I get rid of them," he thought. "What money was all that bought with?" he asked at last, gazing at the wall. "Money? Why, your own, what the messenger brought from Vahrushin, your mother sent it. Have you forgotten that, too?" "I remember now," said Raskolnikov after a long, sullen silence. Razumihin looked at him, frowning and uneasy. The door opened and a tall, stout man whose appearance seemed familiar to Raskolnikov came in. "Zossimov! At last!" cried Razumihin, delighted. Chapter Four ZOSSIMOV WAS a tall, fat man with a puffy, colourless, clean-shaven face and straight flaxen hair. He wore spectacles, and a big gold ring on his fat finger. He was twenty-seven. He had on a light grey fashionable loose coat, light summer trousers, and everything about him loose, fashionable and spick and able, his linen was irreproachable, his watch-chain was massive. In manner he was slow and, as it were, nonchalant, and at the same time studiously free and easy; he made efforts to conceal his self-importance, but it was apparent at every instant. All his acquaintances found him tedious, but said he was clever at his work. "I've been to you twice to-day, brother. You see, he's come to himself," cried Razumihin. "I see, I see; and how do we feel now, eh?" said Zossimov to Raskolnikov, watching him carefully and, sitting down at the foot of the sofa, he settled himself as comfortably as he could. "He is still depressed," Razumihin went on. "We've just changed his linen and he almost cried." "That's very natural; you might have put it off if he did not wish it.... His pulse is first-rate. Is your head still aching, eh?" "I am well, I am perfectly well!" Raskolnikov declared positively and irritably. He raised himself on the sofa and looked at them with glittering eyes, but sank back on to the pillow at once and turned to the wall. Zossimov watched him intently. "Very good.... Going on all right," he said lazily. "Has he eaten anything?" They told him, and,2021欧洲杯投注网roubles for the underclothes- they were bought in the lot- which makes exactly nine roubles fifty-five copecks. Forty-five copecks change in coppers. Will you take it? And so, Rodya, you are set up with a complete new rig-out, for your overcoat will serve, and even has a style of its own. That comes from getting one's clothes from Sharmer's! As for your socks and other things, I leave them to you; we've twenty-five roubles left. And as for Pashenka and paying for your lodging, don't you worry. I tell you she'll trust you for anything. And now, brother, let me change your linen, for I daresay you will throw off your illness with your shirt." "Let me be! I don't want to!" Raskolnikov waved him off. He had listened with disgust to Razumihin's efforts to be playful about his purchases. "Come, brother, don't tell me I've been trudging around for nothing," Razumihin insisted. "Nastasya, don't be bashful, but help me- that's it," and in spite of Raskolnikov's resistance he changed his linen. The latter sank back on the pillows and for a minute or two said nothing. "It will be long before I get rid of them," he thought. "What money was all that bought with?" he asked at last, gazing at the wall. "Money? Why, your own, what the messenger brought from Vahrushin, your mother sent it. Have you forgotten that, too?" "I remember now," said Raskolnikov after a long, sullen silence. Razumihin looked at him, frowning and uneasy. The door opened and a tall, stout man whose appearance seemed familiar to Raskolnikov came in. "Zossimov! At last!" cried Razumihin, delighted. Chapter Four ZOSSIMOV WAS a tall, fat man with a puffy, colourless, clean-shaven face and straight flaxen hair. He wore spectacles, and a big gold ring on his fat finger. He was twenty-seven. He had on a light grey fashionable loose coat, light summer trousers, and everything about him loose, fashionable and spick and able, his linen was irreproachable, his watch-chain was massive. In manner he was slow and, as it were, nonchalant, and at the same time studiously free and easy; he made efforts to conceal his self-importance, but it was apparent at every instant. All his acquaintances found him tedious, but said he was clever at his work. "I've been to you twice to-day, brother. You see, he's come to himself," cried Razumihin. "I see, I see; and how do we feel now, eh?" said Zossimov to Raskolnikov, watching him carefully and, sitting down at the foot of the sofa, he settled himself as comfortably as he could. "He is still depressed," Razumihin went on. "We've just changed his linen and he almost cried." "That's very natural; you might have put it off if he did not wish it.... His pulse is first-rate. Is your head still aching, eh?" "I am well, I am perfectly well!" Raskolnikov declared positively and irritably. He raised himself on the sofa and looked at them with glittering eyes, but sank back on to the pillow at once and turned to the wall. Zossimov watched him intently. "Very good.... Going on all right," he said lazily. "Has he eaten anything?" They told him, androubles for the underclothes- they were bought in the lot- which makes exactly nine roubles fifty-five copecks. Forty-five copecks change in coppers. Will you take it? And so, Rodya, you are set up with a complete new rig-out, for your overcoat will serve, and even has a style of its own. That comes from getting one's clothes from Sharmer's! As for your socks and other things, I leave them to you; we've twenty-five roubles left. And as for Pashenka and paying for your lodging, don't you worry. I tell you she'll trust you for anything. And now, brother, let me change your linen, for I daresay you will throw off your illness with your shirt." "Let me be! I don't want to!" Raskolnikov waved him off. He had listened with disgust to Razumihin's efforts to be playful about his purchases. "Come, brother, don't tell me I've been trudging around for nothing," Razumihin insisted. "Nastasya, don't be bashful, but help me- that's it," and in spite of Raskolnikov's resistance he changed his linen. The latter sank back on the pillows and for a minute or two said nothing. "It will be long before I get rid of them," he thought. "What money was all that bought with?" he asked at last, gazing at the wall. "Money? Why, your own, what the messenger brought from Vahrushin, your mother sent it. Have you forgotten that, too?" "I remember now," said Raskolnikov after a long, sullen silence. Razumihin looked at him, frowning and uneasy. The door opened and a tall, stout man whose appearance seemed familiar to Raskolnikov came in. "Zossimov! At last!" cried Razumihin, delighted. Chapter Four ZOSSIMOV WAS a tall, fat man with a puffy, colourless, clean-shaven face and straight flaxen hair. He wore spectacles, and a big gold ring on his fat finger. He was twenty-seven. He had on a light grey fashionable loose coat, light summer trousers, and everything about him loose, fashionable and spick and able, his linen was irreproachable, his watch-chain was massive. In manner he was slow and, as it were, nonchalant, and at the same time studiously free and easy; he made efforts to conceal his self-importance, but it was apparent at every instant. All his acquaintances found him tedious, but said he was clever at his work. "I've been to you twice to-day, brother. You see, he's come to himself," cried Razumihin. "I see, I see; and how do we feel now, eh?" said Zossimov to Raskolnikov, watching him carefully and, sitting down at the foot of the sofa, he settled himself as comfortably as he could. "He is still depressed," Razumihin went on. "We've just changed his linen and he almost cried." "That's very natural; you might have put it off if he did not wish it.... His pulse is first-rate. Is your head still aching, eh?" "I am well, I am perfectly well!" Raskolnikov declared positively and irritably. He raised himself on the sofa and looked at them with glittering eyes, but sank back on to the pillow at once and turned to the wall. Zossimov watched him intently. "Very good.... Going on all right," he said lazily. "Has he eaten anything?" They told him, and,roubles for the underclothes- they were bought in the lot- which makes exactly nine roubles fifty-five copecks. Forty-five copecks change in coppers. Will you take it? And so, Rodya, you are set up with a complete new rig-out, for your overcoat will serve, and even has a style of its own. That comes from getting one's clothes from Sharmer's! As for your socks and other things, I leave them to you; we've twenty-five roubles left. And as for Pashenka and paying for your lodging, don't you worry. I tell you she'll trust you for anything. And now, brother, let me change your linen, for I daresay you will throw off your illness with your shirt." "Let me be! I don't want to!" Raskolnikov waved him off. He had listened with disgust to Razumihin's efforts to be playful about his purchases. "Come, brother, don't tell me I've been trudging around for nothing," Razumihin insisted. "Nastasya, don't be bashful, but help me- that's it," and in spite of Raskolnikov's resistance he changed his linen. The latter sank back on the pillows and for a minute or two said nothing. "It will be long before I get rid of them," he thought. "What money was all that bought with?" he asked at last, gazing at the wall. "Money? Why, your own, what the messenger brought from Vahrushin, your mother sent it. Have you forgotten that, too?" "I remember now," said Raskolnikov after a long, sullen silence. Razumihin looked at him, frowning and uneasy. The door opened and a tall, stout man whose appearance seemed familiar to Raskolnikov came in. "Zossimov! At last!" cried Razumihin, delighted. Chapter Four ZOSSIMOV WAS a tall, fat man with a puffy, colourless, clean-shaven face and straight flaxen hair. He wore spectacles, and a big gold ring on his fat finger. He was twenty-seven. He had on a light grey fashionable loose coat, light summer trousers, and everything about him loose, fashionable and spick and able, his linen was irreproachable, his watch-chain was massive. In manner he was slow and, as it were, nonchalant, and at the same time studiously free and easy; he made efforts to conceal his self-importance, but it was apparent at every instant. All his acquaintances found him tedious, but said he was clever at his work. "I've been to you twice to-day, brother. You see, he's come to himself," cried Razumihin. "I see, I see; and how do we feel now, eh?" said Zossimov to Raskolnikov, watching him carefully and, sitting down at the foot of the sofa, he settled himself as comfortably as he could. "He is still depressed," Razumihin went on. "We've just changed his linen and he almost cried." "That's very natural; you might have put it off if he did not wish it.... His pulse is first-rate. Is your head still aching, eh?" "I am well, I am perfectly well!" Raskolnikov declared positively and irritably. He raised himself on the sofa and looked at them with glittering eyes, but sank back on to the pillow at once and turned to the wall. Zossimov watched him intently. "Very good.... Going on all right," he said lazily. "Has he eaten anything?" They told him, and,roubles for the underclothes- they were bought in the lot- which makes exactly nine roubles fifty-five copecks. Forty-five copecks change in coppers. Will you take it? And so, Rodya, you are set up with a complete new rig-out, for your overcoat will serve, and even has a style of its own. That comes from getting one's clothes from Sharmer's! As for your socks and other things, I leave them to you; we've twenty-five roubles left. And as for Pashenka and paying for your lodging, don't you worry. I tell you she'll trust you for anything. And now, brother, let me change your linen, for I daresay you will throw off your illness with your shirt." "Let me be! I don't want to!" Raskolnikov waved him off. He had listened with disgust to Razumihin's efforts to be playful about his purchases. "Come, brother, don't tell me I've been trudging around for nothing," Razumihin insisted. "Nastasya, don't be bashful, but help me- that's it," and in spite of Raskolnikov's resistance he changed his linen. The latter sank back on the pillows and for a minute or two said nothing. "It will be long before I get rid of them," he thought. "What money was all that bought with?" he asked at last, gazing at the wall. "Money? Why, your own, what the messenger brought from Vahrushin, your mother sent it. Have you forgotten that, too?" "I remember now," said Raskolnikov after a long, sullen silence. Razumihin looked at him, frowning and uneasy. The door opened and a tall, stout man whose appearance seemed familiar to Raskolnikov came in. "Zossimov! At last!" cried Razumihin, delighted. Chapter Four ZOSSIMOV WAS a tall, fat man with a puffy, colourless, clean-shaven face and straight flaxen hair. He wore spectacles, and a big gold ring on his fat finger. He was twenty-seven. He had on a light grey fashionable loose coat, light summer trousers, and everything about him loose, fashionable and spick and able, his linen was irreproachable, his watch-chain was massive. In manner he was slow and, as it were, nonchalant, and at the same time studiously free and easy; he made efforts to conceal his self-importance, but it was apparent at every instant. All his acquaintances found him tedious, but said he was clever at his work. "I've been to you twice to-day, brother. You see, he's come to himself," cried Razumihin. "I see, I see; and how do we feel now, eh?" said Zossimov to Raskolnikov, watching him carefully and, sitting down at the foot of the sofa, he settled himself as comfortably as he could. "He is still depressed," Razumihin went on. "We've just changed his linen and he almost cried." "That's very natural; you might have put it off if he did not wish it.... His pulse is first-rate. Is your head still aching, eh?" "I am well, I am perfectly well!" Raskolnikov declared positively and irritably. He raised himself on the sofa and looked at them with glittering eyes, but sank back on to the pillow at once and turned to the wall. Zossimov watched him intently. "Very good.... Going on all right," he said lazily. "Has he eaten anything?" They told him, and

roubles for the underclothes- they were bought in the lot- which makes exactly nine roubles fifty-five copecks. Forty-five copecks change in coppers. Will you take it? And so, Rodya, you are set up with a complete new rig-out, for your overcoat will serve, and even has a style of its own. That comes from getting one's clothes from Sharmer's! As for your socks and other things, I leave them to you; we've twenty-five roubles left. And as for Pashenka and paying for your lodging, don't you worry. I tell you she'll trust you for anything. And now, brother, let me change your linen, for I daresay you will throw off your illness with your shirt." "Let me be! I don't want to!" Raskolnikov waved him off. He had listened with disgust to Razumihin's efforts to be playful about his purchases. "Come, brother, don't tell me I've been trudging around for nothing," Razumihin insisted. "Nastasya, don't be bashful, but help me- that's it," and in spite of Raskolnikov's resistance he changed his linen. The latter sank back on the pillows and for a minute or two said nothing. "It will be long before I get rid of them," he thought. "What money was all that bought with?" he asked at last, gazing at the wall. "Money? Why, your own, what the messenger brought from Vahrushin, your mother sent it. Have you forgotten that, too?" "I remember now," said Raskolnikov after a long, sullen silence. Razumihin looked at him, frowning and uneasy. The door opened and a tall, stout man whose appearance seemed familiar to Raskolnikov came in. "Zossimov! At last!" cried Razumihin, delighted. Chapter Four ZOSSIMOV WAS a tall, fat man with a puffy, colourless, clean-shaven face and straight flaxen hair. He wore spectacles, and a big gold ring on his fat finger. He was twenty-seven. He had on a light grey fashionable loose coat, light summer trousers, and everything about him loose, fashionable and spick and able, his linen was irreproachable, his watch-chain was massive. In manner he was slow and, as it were, nonchalant, and at the same time studiously free and easy; he made efforts to conceal his self-importance, but it was apparent at every instant. All his acquaintances found him tedious, but said he was clever at his work. "I've been to you twice to-day, brother. You see, he's come to himself," cried Razumihin. "I see, I see; and how do we feel now, eh?" said Zossimov to Raskolnikov, watching him carefully and, sitting down at the foot of the sofa, he settled himself as comfortably as he could. "He is still depressed," Razumihin went on. "We've just changed his linen and he almost cried." "That's very natural; you might have put it off if he did not wish it.... His pulse is first-rate. Is your head still aching, eh?" "I am well, I am perfectly well!" Raskolnikov declared positively and irritably. He raised himself on the sofa and looked at them with glittering eyes, but sank back on to the pillow at once and turned to the wall. Zossimov watched him intently. "Very good.... Going on all right," he said lazily. "Has he eaten anything?" They told him, and,2021欧洲杯手机投注网roubles for the underclothes- they were bought in the lot- which makes exactly nine roubles fifty-five copecks. Forty-five copecks change in coppers. Will you take it? And so, Rodya, you are set up with a complete new rig-out, for your overcoat will serve, and even has a style of its own. That comes from getting one's clothes from Sharmer's! As for your socks and other things, I leave them to you; we've twenty-five roubles left. And as for Pashenka and paying for your lodging, don't you worry. I tell you she'll trust you for anything. And now, brother, let me change your linen, for I daresay you will throw off your illness with your shirt." "Let me be! I don't want to!" Raskolnikov waved him off. He had listened with disgust to Razumihin's efforts to be playful about his purchases. "Come, brother, don't tell me I've been trudging around for nothing," Razumihin insisted. "Nastasya, don't be bashful, but help me- that's it," and in spite of Raskolnikov's resistance he changed his linen. The latter sank back on the pillows and for a minute or two said nothing. "It will be long before I get rid of them," he thought. "What money was all that bought with?" he asked at last, gazing at the wall. "Money? Why, your own, what the messenger brought from Vahrushin, your mother sent it. Have you forgotten that, too?" "I remember now," said Raskolnikov after a long, sullen silence. Razumihin looked at him, frowning and uneasy. The door opened and a tall, stout man whose appearance seemed familiar to Raskolnikov came in. "Zossimov! At last!" cried Razumihin, delighted. Chapter Four ZOSSIMOV WAS a tall, fat man with a puffy, colourless, clean-shaven face and straight flaxen hair. He wore spectacles, and a big gold ring on his fat finger. He was twenty-seven. He had on a light grey fashionable loose coat, light summer trousers, and everything about him loose, fashionable and spick and able, his linen was irreproachable, his watch-chain was massive. In manner he was slow and, as it were, nonchalant, and at the same time studiously free and easy; he made efforts to conceal his self-importance, but it was apparent at every instant. All his acquaintances found him tedious, but said he was clever at his work. "I've been to you twice to-day, brother. You see, he's come to himself," cried Razumihin. "I see, I see; and how do we feel now, eh?" said Zossimov to Raskolnikov, watching him carefully and, sitting down at the foot of the sofa, he settled himself as comfortably as he could. "He is still depressed," Razumihin went on. "We've just changed his linen and he almost cried." "That's very natural; you might have put it off if he did not wish it.... His pulse is first-rate. Is your head still aching, eh?" "I am well, I am perfectly well!" Raskolnikov declared positively and irritably. He raised himself on the sofa and looked at them with glittering eyes, but sank back on to the pillow at once and turned to the wall. Zossimov watched him intently. "Very good.... Going on all right," he said lazily. "Has he eaten anything?" They told him, and,roubles for the underclothes- they were bought in the lot- which makes exactly nine roubles fifty-five copecks. Forty-five copecks change in coppers. Will you take it? And so, Rodya, you are set up with a complete new rig-out, for your overcoat will serve, and even has a style of its own. That comes from getting one's clothes from Sharmer's! As for your socks and other things, I leave them to you; we've twenty-five roubles left. And as for Pashenka and paying for your lodging, don't you worry. I tell you she'll trust you for anything. And now, brother, let me change your linen, for I daresay you will throw off your illness with your shirt." "Let me be! I don't want to!" Raskolnikov waved him off. He had listened with disgust to Razumihin's efforts to be playful about his purchases. "Come, brother, don't tell me I've been trudging around for nothing," Razumihin insisted. "Nastasya, don't be bashful, but help me- that's it," and in spite of Raskolnikov's resistance he changed his linen. The latter sank back on the pillows and for a minute or two said nothing. "It will be long before I get rid of them," he thought. "What money was all that bought with?" he asked at last, gazing at the wall. "Money? Why, your own, what the messenger brought from Vahrushin, your mother sent it. Have you forgotten that, too?" "I remember now," said Raskolnikov after a long, sullen silence. Razumihin looked at him, frowning and uneasy. The door opened and a tall, stout man whose appearance seemed familiar to Raskolnikov came in. "Zossimov! At last!" cried Razumihin, delighted. Chapter Four ZOSSIMOV WAS a tall, fat man with a puffy, colourless, clean-shaven face and straight flaxen hair. He wore spectacles, and a big gold ring on his fat finger. He was twenty-seven. He had on a light grey fashionable loose coat, light summer trousers, and everything about him loose, fashionable and spick and able, his linen was irreproachable, his watch-chain was massive. In manner he was slow and, as it were, nonchalant, and at the same time studiously free and easy; he made efforts to conceal his self-importance, but it was apparent at every instant. All his acquaintances found him tedious, but said he was clever at his work. "I've been to you twice to-day, brother. You see, he's come to himself," cried Razumihin. "I see, I see; and how do we feel now, eh?" said Zossimov to Raskolnikov, watching him carefully and, sitting down at the foot of the sofa, he settled himself as comfortably as he could. "He is still depressed," Razumihin went on. "We've just changed his linen and he almost cried." "That's very natural; you might have put it off if he did not wish it.... His pulse is first-rate. Is your head still aching, eh?" "I am well, I am perfectly well!" Raskolnikov declared positively and irritably. He raised himself on the sofa and looked at them with glittering eyes, but sank back on to the pillow at once and turned to the wall. Zossimov watched him intently. "Very good.... Going on all right," he said lazily. "Has he eaten anything?" They told him, andwelcome欧洲杯2020

roubles for the underclothes- they were bought in the lot- which makes exactly nine roubles fifty-five copecks. Forty-five copecks change in coppers. Will you take it? And so, Rodya, you are set up with a complete new rig-out, for your overcoat will serve, and even has a style of its own. That comes from getting one's clothes from Sharmer's! As for your socks and other things, I leave them to you; we've twenty-five roubles left. And as for Pashenka and paying for your lodging, don't you worry. I tell you she'll trust you for anything. And now, brother, let me change your linen, for I daresay you will throw off your illness with your shirt." "Let me be! I don't want to!" Raskolnikov waved him off. He had listened with disgust to Razumihin's efforts to be playful about his purchases. "Come, brother, don't tell me I've been trudging around for nothing," Razumihin insisted. "Nastasya, don't be bashful, but help me- that's it," and in spite of Raskolnikov's resistance he changed his linen. The latter sank back on the pillows and for a minute or two said nothing. "It will be long before I get rid of them," he thought. "What money was all that bought with?" he asked at last, gazing at the wall. "Money? Why, your own, what the messenger brought from Vahrushin, your mother sent it. Have you forgotten that, too?" "I remember now," said Raskolnikov after a long, sullen silence. Razumihin looked at him, frowning and uneasy. The door opened and a tall, stout man whose appearance seemed familiar to Raskolnikov came in. "Zossimov! At last!" cried Razumihin, delighted. Chapter Four ZOSSIMOV WAS a tall, fat man with a puffy, colourless, clean-shaven face and straight flaxen hair. He wore spectacles, and a big gold ring on his fat finger. He was twenty-seven. He had on a light grey fashionable loose coat, light summer trousers, and everything about him loose, fashionable and spick and able, his linen was irreproachable, his watch-chain was massive. In manner he was slow and, as it were, nonchalant, and at the same time studiously free and easy; he made efforts to conceal his self-importance, but it was apparent at every instant. All his acquaintances found him tedious, but said he was clever at his work. "I've been to you twice to-day, brother. You see, he's come to himself," cried Razumihin. "I see, I see; and how do we feel now, eh?" said Zossimov to Raskolnikov, watching him carefully and, sitting down at the foot of the sofa, he settled himself as comfortably as he could. "He is still depressed," Razumihin went on. "We've just changed his linen and he almost cried." "That's very natural; you might have put it off if he did not wish it.... His pulse is first-rate. Is your head still aching, eh?" "I am well, I am perfectly well!" Raskolnikov declared positively and irritably. He raised himself on the sofa and looked at them with glittering eyes, but sank back on to the pillow at once and turned to the wall. Zossimov watched him intently. "Very good.... Going on all right," he said lazily. "Has he eaten anything?" They told him, and,买球欧洲杯下单roubles for the underclothes- they were bought in the lot- which makes exactly nine roubles fifty-five copecks. Forty-five copecks change in coppers. Will you take it? And so, Rodya, you are set up with a complete new rig-out, for your overcoat will serve, and even has a style of its own. That comes from getting one's clothes from Sharmer's! As for your socks and other things, I leave them to you; we've twenty-five roubles left. And as for Pashenka and paying for your lodging, don't you worry. I tell you she'll trust you for anything. And now, brother, let me change your linen, for I daresay you will throw off your illness with your shirt." "Let me be! I don't want to!" Raskolnikov waved him off. He had listened with disgust to Razumihin's efforts to be playful about his purchases. "Come, brother, don't tell me I've been trudging around for nothing," Razumihin insisted. "Nastasya, don't be bashful, but help me- that's it," and in spite of Raskolnikov's resistance he changed his linen. The latter sank back on the pillows and for a minute or two said nothing. "It will be long before I get rid of them," he thought. "What money was all that bought with?" he asked at last, gazing at the wall. "Money? Why, your own, what the messenger brought from Vahrushin, your mother sent it. Have you forgotten that, too?" "I remember now," said Raskolnikov after a long, sullen silence. Razumihin looked at him, frowning and uneasy. The door opened and a tall, stout man whose appearance seemed familiar to Raskolnikov came in. "Zossimov! At last!" cried Razumihin, delighted. Chapter Four ZOSSIMOV WAS a tall, fat man with a puffy, colourless, clean-shaven face and straight flaxen hair. He wore spectacles, and a big gold ring on his fat finger. He was twenty-seven. He had on a light grey fashionable loose coat, light summer trousers, and everything about him loose, fashionable and spick and able, his linen was irreproachable, his watch-chain was massive. In manner he was slow and, as it were, nonchalant, and at the same time studiously free and easy; he made efforts to conceal his self-importance, but it was apparent at every instant. All his acquaintances found him tedious, but said he was clever at his work. "I've been to you twice to-day, brother. You see, he's come to himself," cried Razumihin. "I see, I see; and how do we feel now, eh?" said Zossimov to Raskolnikov, watching him carefully and, sitting down at the foot of the sofa, he settled himself as comfortably as he could. "He is still depressed," Razumihin went on. "We've just changed his linen and he almost cried." "That's very natural; you might have put it off if he did not wish it.... His pulse is first-rate. Is your head still aching, eh?" "I am well, I am perfectly well!" Raskolnikov declared positively and irritably. He raised himself on the sofa and looked at them with glittering eyes, but sank back on to the pillow at once and turned to the wall. Zossimov watched him intently. "Very good.... Going on all right," he said lazily. "Has he eaten anything?" They told him, and

roubles for the underclothes- they were bought in the lot- which makes exactly nine roubles fifty-five copecks. Forty-five copecks change in coppers. Will you take it? And so, Rodya, you are set up with a complete new rig-out, for your overcoat will serve, and even has a style of its own. That comes from getting one's clothes from Sharmer's! As for your socks and other things, I leave them to you; we've twenty-five roubles left. And as for Pashenka and paying for your lodging, don't you worry. I tell you she'll trust you for anything. And now, brother, let me change your linen, for I daresay you will throw off your illness with your shirt." "Let me be! I don't want to!" Raskolnikov waved him off. He had listened with disgust to Razumihin's efforts to be playful about his purchases. "Come, brother, don't tell me I've been trudging around for nothing," Razumihin insisted. "Nastasya, don't be bashful, but help me- that's it," and in spite of Raskolnikov's resistance he changed his linen. The latter sank back on the pillows and for a minute or two said nothing. "It will be long before I get rid of them," he thought. "What money was all that bought with?" he asked at last, gazing at the wall. "Money? Why, your own, what the messenger brought from Vahrushin, your mother sent it. Have you forgotten that, too?" "I remember now," said Raskolnikov after a long, sullen silence. Razumihin looked at him, frowning and uneasy. The door opened and a tall, stout man whose appearance seemed familiar to Raskolnikov came in. "Zossimov! At last!" cried Razumihin, delighted. Chapter Four ZOSSIMOV WAS a tall, fat man with a puffy, colourless, clean-shaven face and straight flaxen hair. He wore spectacles, and a big gold ring on his fat finger. He was twenty-seven. He had on a light grey fashionable loose coat, light summer trousers, and everything about him loose, fashionable and spick and able, his linen was irreproachable, his watch-chain was massive. In manner he was slow and, as it were, nonchalant, and at the same time studiously free and easy; he made efforts to conceal his self-importance, but it was apparent at every instant. All his acquaintances found him tedious, but said he was clever at his work. "I've been to you twice to-day, brother. You see, he's come to himself," cried Razumihin. "I see, I see; and how do we feel now, eh?" said Zossimov to Raskolnikov, watching him carefully and, sitting down at the foot of the sofa, he settled himself as comfortably as he could. "He is still depressed," Razumihin went on. "We've just changed his linen and he almost cried." "That's very natural; you might have put it off if he did not wish it.... His pulse is first-rate. Is your head still aching, eh?" "I am well, I am perfectly well!" Raskolnikov declared positively and irritably. He raised himself on the sofa and looked at them with glittering eyes, but sank back on to the pillow at once and turned to the wall. Zossimov watched him intently. "Very good.... Going on all right," he said lazily. "Has he eaten anything?" They told him, and,欧洲杯比赛在哪买球,欧洲杯比赛下注roubles for the underclothes- they were bought in the lot- which makes exactly nine roubles fifty-five copecks. Forty-five copecks change in coppers. Will you take it? And so, Rodya, you are set up with a complete new rig-out, for your overcoat will serve, and even has a style of its own. That comes from getting one's clothes from Sharmer's! As for your socks and other things, I leave them to you; we've twenty-five roubles left. And as for Pashenka and paying for your lodging, don't you worry. I tell you she'll trust you for anything. And now, brother, let me change your linen, for I daresay you will throw off your illness with your shirt." "Let me be! I don't want to!" Raskolnikov waved him off. He had listened with disgust to Razumihin's efforts to be playful about his purchases. "Come, brother, don't tell me I've been trudging around for nothing," Razumihin insisted. "Nastasya, don't be bashful, but help me- that's it," and in spite of Raskolnikov's resistance he changed his linen. The latter sank back on the pillows and for a minute or two said nothing. "It will be long before I get rid of them," he thought. "What money was all that bought with?" he asked at last, gazing at the wall. "Money? Why, your own, what the messenger brought from Vahrushin, your mother sent it. Have you forgotten that, too?" "I remember now," said Raskolnikov after a long, sullen silence. Razumihin looked at him, frowning and uneasy. The door opened and a tall, stout man whose appearance seemed familiar to Raskolnikov came in. "Zossimov! At last!" cried Razumihin, delighted. Chapter Four ZOSSIMOV WAS a tall, fat man with a puffy, colourless, clean-shaven face and straight flaxen hair. He wore spectacles, and a big gold ring on his fat finger. He was twenty-seven. He had on a light grey fashionable loose coat, light summer trousers, and everything about him loose, fashionable and spick and able, his linen was irreproachable, his watch-chain was massive. In manner he was slow and, as it were, nonchalant, and at the same time studiously free and easy; he made efforts to conceal his self-importance, but it was apparent at every instant. All his acquaintances found him tedious, but said he was clever at his work. "I've been to you twice to-day, brother. You see, he's come to himself," cried Razumihin. "I see, I see; and how do we feel now, eh?" said Zossimov to Raskolnikov, watching him carefully and, sitting down at the foot of the sofa, he settled himself as comfortably as he could. "He is still depressed," Razumihin went on. "We've just changed his linen and he almost cried." "That's very natural; you might have put it off if he did not wish it.... His pulse is first-rate. Is your head still aching, eh?" "I am well, I am perfectly well!" Raskolnikov declared positively and irritably. He raised himself on the sofa and looked at them with glittering eyes, but sank back on to the pillow at once and turned to the wall. Zossimov watched him intently. "Very good.... Going on all right," he said lazily. "Has he eaten anything?" They told him, and

roubles for the underclothes- they were bought in the lot- which makes exactly nine roubles fifty-five copecks. Forty-five copecks change in coppers. Will you take it? And so, Rodya, you are set up with a complete new rig-out, for your overcoat will serve, and even has a style of its own. That comes from getting one's clothes from Sharmer's! As for your socks and other things, I leave them to you; we've twenty-five roubles left. And as for Pashenka and paying for your lodging, don't you worry. I tell you she'll trust you for anything. And now, brother, let me change your linen, for I daresay you will throw off your illness with your shirt." "Let me be! I don't want to!" Raskolnikov waved him off. He had listened with disgust to Razumihin's efforts to be playful about his purchases. "Come, brother, don't tell me I've been trudging around for nothing," Razumihin insisted. "Nastasya, don't be bashful, but help me- that's it," and in spite of Raskolnikov's resistance he changed his linen. The latter sank back on the pillows and for a minute or two said nothing. "It will be long before I get rid of them," he thought. "What money was all that bought with?" he asked at last, gazing at the wall. "Money? Why, your own, what the messenger brought from Vahrushin, your mother sent it. Have you forgotten that, too?" "I remember now," said Raskolnikov after a long, sullen silence. Razumihin looked at him, frowning and uneasy. The door opened and a tall, stout man whose appearance seemed familiar to Raskolnikov came in. "Zossimov! At last!" cried Razumihin, delighted. Chapter Four ZOSSIMOV WAS a tall, fat man with a puffy, colourless, clean-shaven face and straight flaxen hair. He wore spectacles, and a big gold ring on his fat finger. He was twenty-seven. He had on a light grey fashionable loose coat, light summer trousers, and everything about him loose, fashionable and spick and able, his linen was irreproachable, his watch-chain was massive. In manner he was slow and, as it were, nonchalant, and at the same time studiously free and easy; he made efforts to conceal his self-importance, but it was apparent at every instant. All his acquaintances found him tedious, but said he was clever at his work. "I've been to you twice to-day, brother. You see, he's come to himself," cried Razumihin. "I see, I see; and how do we feel now, eh?" said Zossimov to Raskolnikov, watching him carefully and, sitting down at the foot of the sofa, he settled himself as comfortably as he could. "He is still depressed," Razumihin went on. "We've just changed his linen and he almost cried." "That's very natural; you might have put it off if he did not wish it.... His pulse is first-rate. Is your head still aching, eh?" "I am well, I am perfectly well!" Raskolnikov declared positively and irritably. He raised himself on the sofa and looked at them with glittering eyes, but sank back on to the pillow at once and turned to the wall. Zossimov watched him intently. "Very good.... Going on all right," he said lazily. "Has he eaten anything?" They told him, and,2021欧洲杯在线投注roubles for the underclothes- they were bought in the lot- which makes exactly nine roubles fifty-five copecks. Forty-five copecks change in coppers. Will you take it? And so, Rodya, you are set up with a complete new rig-out, for your overcoat will serve, and even has a style of its own. That comes from getting one's clothes from Sharmer's! As for your socks and other things, I leave them to you; we've twenty-five roubles left. And as for Pashenka and paying for your lodging, don't you worry. I tell you she'll trust you for anything. And now, brother, let me change your linen, for I daresay you will throw off your illness with your shirt." "Let me be! I don't want to!" Raskolnikov waved him off. He had listened with disgust to Razumihin's efforts to be playful about his purchases. "Come, brother, don't tell me I've been trudging around for nothing," Razumihin insisted. "Nastasya, don't be bashful, but help me- that's it," and in spite of Raskolnikov's resistance he changed his linen. The latter sank back on the pillows and for a minute or two said nothing. "It will be long before I get rid of them," he thought. "What money was all that bought with?" he asked at last, gazing at the wall. "Money? Why, your own, what the messenger brought from Vahrushin, your mother sent it. Have you forgotten that, too?" "I remember now," said Raskolnikov after a long, sullen silence. Razumihin looked at him, frowning and uneasy. The door opened and a tall, stout man whose appearance seemed familiar to Raskolnikov came in. "Zossimov! At last!" cried Razumihin, delighted. Chapter Four ZOSSIMOV WAS a tall, fat man with a puffy, colourless, clean-shaven face and straight flaxen hair. He wore spectacles, and a big gold ring on his fat finger. He was twenty-seven. He had on a light grey fashionable loose coat, light summer trousers, and everything about him loose, fashionable and spick and able, his linen was irreproachable, his watch-chain was massive. In manner he was slow and, as it were, nonchalant, and at the same time studiously free and easy; he made efforts to conceal his self-importance, but it was apparent at every instant. All his acquaintances found him tedious, but said he was clever at his work. "I've been to you twice to-day, brother. You see, he's come to himself," cried Razumihin. "I see, I see; and how do we feel now, eh?" said Zossimov to Raskolnikov, watching him carefully and, sitting down at the foot of the sofa, he settled himself as comfortably as he could. "He is still depressed," Razumihin went on. "We've just changed his linen and he almost cried." "That's very natural; you might have put it off if he did not wish it.... His pulse is first-rate. Is your head still aching, eh?" "I am well, I am perfectly well!" Raskolnikov declared positively and irritably. He raised himself on the sofa and looked at them with glittering eyes, but sank back on to the pillow at once and turned to the wall. Zossimov watched him intently. "Very good.... Going on all right," he said lazily. "Has he eaten anything?" They told him, and欧洲杯手机投注,roubles for the underclothes- they were bought in the lot- which makes exactly nine roubles fifty-five copecks. Forty-five copecks change in coppers. Will you take it? And so, Rodya, you are set up with a complete new rig-out, for your overcoat will serve, and even has a style of its own. That comes from getting one's clothes from Sharmer's! As for your socks and other things, I leave them to you; we've twenty-five roubles left. And as for Pashenka and paying for your lodging, don't you worry. I tell you she'll trust you for anything. And now, brother, let me change your linen, for I daresay you will throw off your illness with your shirt." "Let me be! I don't want to!" Raskolnikov waved him off. He had listened with disgust to Razumihin's efforts to be playful about his purchases. "Come, brother, don't tell me I've been trudging around for nothing," Razumihin insisted. "Nastasya, don't be bashful, but help me- that's it," and in spite of Raskolnikov's resistance he changed his linen. The latter sank back on the pillows and for a minute or two said nothing. "It will be long before I get rid of them," he thought. "What money was all that bought with?" he asked at last, gazing at the wall. "Money? Why, your own, what the messenger brought from Vahrushin, your mother sent it. Have you forgotten that, too?" "I remember now," said Raskolnikov after a long, sullen silence. Razumihin looked at him, frowning and uneasy. The door opened and a tall, stout man whose appearance seemed familiar to Raskolnikov came in. "Zossimov! At last!" cried Razumihin, delighted. Chapter Four ZOSSIMOV WAS a tall, fat man with a puffy, colourless, clean-shaven face and straight flaxen hair. He wore spectacles, and a big gold ring on his fat finger. He was twenty-seven. He had on a light grey fashionable loose coat, light summer trousers, and everything about him loose, fashionable and spick and able, his linen was irreproachable, his watch-chain was massive. In manner he was slow and, as it were, nonchalant, and at the same time studiously free and easy; he made efforts to conceal his self-importance, but it was apparent at every instant. All his acquaintances found him tedious, but said he was clever at his work. "I've been to you twice to-day, brother. You see, he's come to himself," cried Razumihin. "I see, I see; and how do we feel now, eh?" said Zossimov to Raskolnikov, watching him carefully and, sitting down at the foot of the sofa, he settled himself as comfortably as he could. "He is still depressed," Razumihin went on. "We've just changed his linen and he almost cried." "That's very natural; you might have put it off if he did not wish it.... His pulse is first-rate. Is your head still aching, eh?" "I am well, I am perfectly well!" Raskolnikov declared positively and irritably. He raised himself on the sofa and looked at them with glittering eyes, but sank back on to the pillow at once and turned to the wall. Zossimov watched him intently. "Very good.... Going on all right," he said lazily. "Has he eaten anything?" They told him, and

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