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Yazar: Fyodor Dostoevsky

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"You see, you... you... understand me, because you are an angel!"
Razumihin cried in ecstasy, "let us go! Nastasya! Fly upstairs
and sit with him with a light; I'll come in a quarter of an
hour."
Though Pulcheria Alexandrovna was not perfectly convinced, she
made no further resistance. Razumihin gave an arm to each and
drew them down the stairs. He still made her uneasy, as though he
was competent and good-natured, was he capable of carrying out
his promise? He seemed in such a condition....

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