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作者: Fyodor Dostoevsky

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"Twenty copecks, silly!" he cried, offended. "Why, nowadays you
would cost more than that--eighty copecks! And that only because
it has been worn. And it's bought on condition that when's it's
worn out, they will give you another next year. Yes, on my word!
Well, now let us pass to the United States of America, as they
called them at school. I assure you I am proud of these
breeches," and he exhibited to Raskolnikov a pair of light,
summer trousers of grey woollen material. "No holes, no spots,
and quite respectable, although a little worn; and a waistcoat to
match, quite in the fashion. And its being worn really is an
improvement, it's softer, smoother.... You see, Rodya, to my
thinking, the great thing for getting on in the world is always
to keep to the seasons; if you don't insist on having asparagus
in January, you keep your money in your purse; and it's the same
with this purchase.

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