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
