“Hm⁠ ⁠… to Razumihin’s,” he said all at once, calmly, as though he had reached a final determination. “I shall go to Razumihin’s of course, but⁠ ⁠… not now. I shall go to him⁠ ⁠… on the next day after It, when It will be over and everything will begin afresh.⁠ ⁠…”

And suddenly he realised what he was thinking.

“After It,” he shouted, jumping up from the seat, “but is It really going to happen? Is it possible it really will happen?” He left the seat, and went off almost at a run; he meant to turn back, homewards, but the thought of going home suddenly filled him with intense loathing; in that hole, in that awful little cupboard of his, all this had for a month past been growing up in him; and he walked on at random.