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too, and

so I’d put

an end to

it. Damn

them!

Don’t be

downhearted.

It’s a

shame!”

“He really

has put it

well,

though,”

Raskolnikov

thought.

“Damn

them? But

the

cross-examination

again,

to-morrow?”

he said

with

bitterness.

“Must I

really

enter into

explanations

with them?

I feel

vexed as

it is,

that I

condescended

to speak

to Zametov

yesterday

in the

restaurant.

…” “Damn

it! I will

go myself

to

Porfiry. I

will

squeeze it

out of

him, as

one of the

family: he