“They say that too.”
“Do you mean to say, Ippolit Sidorovitch, you are not certain on that point?”
“I don’t meddle, my dear Dimitri … Pavlovitch? Yes, Pavlovitch!—in my wife’s affairs.”
“You don’t meddle? Not in any of her affairs?”
Polozov again shifted his eyes. “Not in any, my boy. She does as she likes, and so do I.”
“Where are you going now?” Sanin inquired.
“I’m not going anywhere just now; I’m standing in the street and talking to you; but when we’ve finished talking, I’m going back to my hotel, and am going to have lunch.”
“Would you care for my company?”
“You mean at lunch?”
“Yes.”