“It will be long before I get rid of them,” he thought. “What money was all that bought with?” he asked at last, gazing at the wall.
“Money? Why, your own, what the messenger brought from Vahrushin, your mother sent it. Have you forgotten that, too?”
“I remember now,” said Raskolnikov after a long, sullen silence. Razumihin looked at him, frowning and uneasy.
The door opened and a tall, stout man whose appearance seemed familiar to Raskolnikov came in.