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"Yes, yes. I perfectly agree with you. But allow me to

explain..." Raskolnikov put in again, still addressing Nikodim

Fomitch, but trying his best to address Ilya Petrovitch also,

though the latter persistently appeared to be rummaging among his

papers and to be contemptuously oblivious of him. "Allow me to

explain that I have been living with her for nearly three years

and at first... at first... for why should I not confess it, at

the very beginning I promised to marry her daughter, it was a

verbal promise, freely given... she was a girl... indeed, I liked

her, though I was not in love with her... a youthful affair in

fact... that is, I mean to say, that my landlady gave me credit

freely in those days, and I led a life of... I was very

heedless..."

"Nobody asks you for these personal details, sir, we've no time

to waste," Ilya Petrovitch interposed roughly and with a note of

triumph; but Raskolnikov stopped him hotly, though he suddenly

found it exceedingly difficult to speak.