We sat and talked and had a drink. He is a rare blockhead. Money is no more use to him than a radish to a dog. He does not eat it himself nor give it to others. Money ought to circulate, but he keeps tight hold of it, is afraid to part with it. . . .
Capital lying idle is no better than grass.
Mari d'elle gropes his way to the edge of the bed and, puffing, sits down at his wife's feet. It's very different in England. . . . There are no such queer fish as Zagvozdkin in England, my girl. . . . There every farthing is in circulation. . . . Yes. . . .