and
discontentedly.
“What is
it?”
Raskolnikov
asked,
going up
to the
porter.
The man
stole a
look at
him from
under his
brows and
he looked
at him
attentively,
deliberately;
then he
turned
slowly and
went out
of the
gate into
the street
without
saying a
word.
“What is
it?” cried
Raskolnikov.
“Why, he
there was
asking
whether a
student
lived
here,
mentioned
your name
and whom
you lodged
with. I
saw you
coming and
pointed
you out
and he
went away.
