"One must not be sparing, and get a good one," she said.
"I will do everything in my power."
They were silent. She again smiled as before.
"I would like to ask you—for some money, if you have it—not much, say ten rubles," she said suddenly.
"Yes, yes," said Nekhludoff, abashed, and thrust his hand in his pocket.
She quickly glanced at the inspector, who was walking up and down the aisle.
"Don't let him see it, or he will take it away."
Nekhludoff took out his pocketbook as soon as the director turned his back on them, but before he could hand her the ten-ruble bill the inspector turned round, facing them. He crumpled the bill in his hand.
"Why, she is a dead woman," thought Nekhludoff as he looked at her once lovely, but now defiled, bloated face with the unhealthy sparkle in her black, squinting eyes, which looked now at the inspector, now at Nekhludoff's hand with the crumpled bill. And a moment of hesitation came over him.
Again the tempter of the night before whispered in his soul, endeavoring to turn the question, What would be the best thing to do? into, What will be the end of it?