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"Yes, yes, yes! There's no hurry, there's no hurry," muttered

Porfiry Petrovitch, moving to and fro about the table without any

apparent aim, as it were making dashes towards the window, the

bureau and the table, at one moment avoiding Raskolnikov's

suspicious glance, then again standing still and looking him

straight in the face.

His fat round little figure looked very strange, like a ball

rolling from one side to the other and rebounding back.

"We've plenty of time. Do you smoke? have you your own? Here, a

cigarette!" he went on, offering his visitor a cigarette. "You

know I am receiving you here, but my own quarters are through

there, you know, my government quarters. But I am living outside

for the time, I had to have some repairs done here. It's almost

finished now.... Government quarters, you know, are a capital

thing. Eh, what do you think?"

"Yes, a capital thing," answered Raskolnikov, looking at him

almost ironically.