“Thank you. But shall I not disturb the invalid by my presence and conversation?” Pyotr Petrovitch asked of Zossimov.
“N-no,” mumbled Zossimov; “you may amuse him.” He yawned again.
“He has been conscious a long time, since the morning,” went on Razumihin, whose familiarity seemed so much like unaffected good-nature that Pyotr Petrovitch began to be more cheerful, partly, perhaps, because this shabby and impudent person had introduced himself as a student.
“Your mamma,” began Luzhin.
“Hm!” Razumihin cleared his throat loudly. Luzhin looked at him inquiringly.