Don't be uneasy, it will be found." "No, I'd better send to your rooms at once.

It might be lost; besides, it might be stolen." "Oh, who'd want it! But why are you so alarmed?
Why, Yulia Mihailovna told me you always have several copies made--one kept at a notary's abroad, another in Petersburg, a third in Moscow, and then you send some to a bank, I believe." "But Moscow might be burnt again and my manuscript with it.

No, I'd better send at once." "Stay, here it is!" Pyotr Stepanovitch pulled a roll of note-paper out of a pocket at the back of his coat.

"It's a little crumpled.

Only fancy, it's been lying there with my pocket-handkerchief ever since I took it from you; I forgot it." Karmazinov greedily snatched the manuscript, carefully examined it, counted the pages, and laid it respectfully beside him on a special table, for the time, in such a way that he would not lose sight of it for an instant.
"You don't read very much, it seems ?" he hissed, unable to restrain himself.
"No, not very much." "And nothing in the way of Russian literature ?" "In the way of Russian literature?
Let me see, I have read something....