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"Oh, no.... God will not let it be!" broke at last from Sonia's

overburdened bosom.

She listened, looking imploringly at him, clasping her hands in

dumb entreaty, as though it all depended upon him.

Raskolnikov got up and began to walk about the room. A minute

passed. Sonia was standing with her hands and her head hanging in

terrible dejection.

"And can't you save? Put by for a rainy day?" he asked, stopping

suddenly before her.

"No," whispered Sonia.

"Of course not. Have you tried?" he added almost ironically.

"Yes."

"And it didn't come off! Of course not! No need to ask."

And again he paced the room. Another minute passed.

"You don't get money every day?"

Sonia was more confused than ever and colour rushed into her face

again.

"No," she whispered with a painful effort.

"It will be the same with Polenka, no doubt," he said suddenly.

"No, no! It can't be, no!" Sonia cried aloud in desperation, as

though she had been stabbed. "God would not allow anything so

awful!"

"He lets others come to it."