I can't tell you how nice it is for us here! But what types! what types! you really must make their acquaintance! What are you doing here? Where are you going to dine? And why is it you were here, of all places?'
'We are going to dinner with a man called Golushkin . . . a merchant here', answered Nezhdanov.
'At what o'clock?'
'Three.'
'And you are seeing him upon . . . upon . . .' Paklin took a comprehensive look at Solomin, who was smiling, and Markelov, whose face grew darker and darker. . .
'Come, Alyosha, tell them . . . make some sort of Masonic sign, do . . . tell them they needn't be on their guard with me . . . I'm one of you . . . of your party.. . .'
'Golushkin, too, is one of us,' observed Nezhdanov.
'Now, I've a brilliant idea! There's a long while yet to three o'clock. Listen, let's go and see my relations!'
'Why, you're crazy! How could we? . . .'
'Don't worry yourself about that! I'll take all that on myself. Imagine: it's an oasis! Not a glimpse of politics, nor literature, nor anything modern has penetrated into it. A queer podgy sort of little house, such as you never see
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