She turned abruptly and went towards the door.

“Dounia!” Raskolnikov stopped her and went towards her. “That Razumihin, Dmitri Prokofitch, is a very good fellow.”

Dounia flushed slightly.

“Well?” she asked, waiting a moment.

“He is competent, hardworking, honest and capable of real love.⁠ ⁠… Goodbye, Dounia.”

Dounia flushed crimson, then suddenly she took alarm.

“But what does it mean, brother? Are we really parting forever that you⁠ ⁠… give me such a parting message?”

“Never mind.⁠ ⁠… Goodbye.”

He turned away, and walked to the window. She stood a moment, looked at him uneasily, and went out troubled.