“Yes, yes, you are right, I did forget myself, I am ashamed of it,” Razumihin made haste to apologise. “But⁠ ⁠… but you can’t be angry with me for speaking so! For I speak sincerely and not because⁠ ⁠… hm, hm! That would be disgraceful; in fact not because I’m in⁠ ⁠… hm! Well, anyway, I won’t say why, I daren’t.⁠ ⁠… But we all saw today when he came in that that man is not of our sort. Not because he had his hair curled at the barber’s, not because he was in such a hurry to show his wit, but because he is a spy, a speculator, because he is a skinflint and a buffoon. That’s evident. Do you think him clever? No, he is a fool, a fool. And is he a match for you? Good heavens! Do you see, ladies?” he stopped suddenly on the way upstairs to their rooms, “though all my friends there are drunk, yet they are all honest, and though we do talk a lot of trash, and I do, too, yet we shall talk our way to the truth at last, for we are on the right path, while Pyotr Petrovitch⁠ ⁠… is not on the right path. Though I’ve been calling them all sorts of names just now, I do respect them all⁠ ⁠… though I don’t respect Zametov, I like him, for he is a puppy, and that bullock Zossimov, because he is an honest man and knows his work. But enough, it’s all said and forgiven. Is it forgiven? Well, then, let’s go on.