can’t give you the whole three thousand straight off. If I give it, you may come back to her tomorrow. … Besides, I haven’t the three thousand with me. I’ve got it at home in the town,” faltered Mitya, his spirit sinking at every word he uttered. “Upon my word, the money’s there, hidden.”
In an instant an extraordinary sense of personal dignity showed itself in the little man’s face.
“What next?” he asked ironically. “For shame!” and he spat on the floor. Pan Vrublevsky spat too.
“You do that, panie ,” said Mitya, recognizing with despair that all was over, “because you hope to make more out of Grushenka? You’re a couple of capons, that’s what you are!”
“This is a mortal insult!” The little Pole turned as red as a crab, and he went out of the room, briskly,