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will drag you out into the open! No-o-o! Hypocrites!
FÉDYA [having finished writing, drinks and reads over his letter] Go
away, please!
IVÁN PETRÓVICH. Go away? Well, good-bye then! I am not going to restrain
you. I shall do the same. But not yet. I only want to tell you ...
FÉDYA. All right! You'll tell me afterwards. And now, dear chap, just
one thing: give this to the manager [gives him money] and ask if a
parcel and a letter have come for me.... Please do!
IVÁN PETRÓVICH. All right--then you'll wait for me? I have still
something important to tell you--something that you will not hear in
this world nor in the next, at any rate not till I come there.... Am I
to let him have all of this?
FÉDYA. As much as is necessary. [Exit Iván Petróvich.]
Fédya sighs with relief; locks the door behind Iván Petróvich; takes
up the revolver, cocks it, puts it to his temple; shudders, and
carefully lowers it again. Groans.
FÉDYA. No; I can't! I can't! I can't! [Knock at the door] Who's there?
[Másha's voice from outside] It's me!
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