hope, that if this broke down, nothing else was left him in the world, but to “rob and murder someone for the three thousand.” It was half-past seven when he rang at the bell.
At first fortune seemed to smile upon him. As soon as he was announced he was received with extraordinary rapidity. “As though she were waiting for me,” thought Mitya, and as soon as he had been led to the drawing-room, the lady of the house herself ran in, and declared at once that she was expecting him.
“I was expecting you! I was expecting you!
Though I’d no reason to suppose you would come to see me, as you will admit yourself. Yet, I did expect you.
You may marvel at my instinct, Dmitri Fyodorovitch, but I was convinced all the morning that you would come.”
“That