“That’s all right, go on.”
Luzhin shrugged his shoulders.
“Your mamma had commenced a letter to you while I was sojourning in her neighbourhood. On my arrival here I purposely allowed a few days to elapse before coming to see you, in order that I might be fully assured that you were in full possession of the tidings; but now, to my astonishment...”
“I know, I know!” Raskolnikov cried suddenly with impatient vexation. “So you are the fiancé? I know, and that’s enough!”
There was no doubt about Pyotr Petrovitch’s being offended this time, but he said nothing. He made a violent effort to understand what it all meant. There was a moment’s silence.