but now I feel shy. Give me six copecks for a drink, there's a nice

Raskolnikov gave her what came first- fifteen copecks.

"Ah, what a good-natured gentleman!"

"Well, that's too much," one of the women observed, shaking her head

at Duclida. "I don't know how you can ask like that. I believe I

Raskolnikov looked curiously at the speaker. She was a pock-marked

wench of thirty, covered with bruises, with her upper lip swollen. She

made her criticism quietly and earnestly. "Where is it," thought