“Of course,” he muttered to himself a minute later with a feeling of self-abasement, “of course, all these infamies can never be wiped out or smoothed over⁠ ⁠… and so it’s useless even to think of it, and I must go to them in silence and do my duty⁠ ⁠… in silence, too⁠ ⁠… and not ask forgiveness, and say nothing⁠ ⁠… for all is lost now!”

And yet as he dressed he examined his attire more carefully than usual. He hadn’t another suit⁠—if he had had, perhaps he wouldn’t have put it on. “I would have made a point of not putting it on.” But in any case he could not remain a cynic and a dirty sloven; he had no right to offend the feelings of others, especially when they were in need of his assistance and asking him to see them. He brushed his clothes carefully. His linen was always decent; in that respect he was especially clean.