1 She'll get it at the shop, my dear.
Crime and Punishment By Fyodor DostoevskyContextHighlight In PART 2: CHAPTER III 2 From time to time he came across shop signs and read each carefully.
3 And there was one of them turned out of a confectioner's shop the other day.
4 And there in the shop she burst out crying before the shopmen because she hadn't enough.
5 We went this morning to the shops to buy shoes for Polenka and Lida for theirs are quite worn out.
6 They keep stopping at the cross-roads and in front of shops; there's a crowd of fools running after them.
7 Glancing out of the corner of his eye into a shop, he saw by a clock on the wall that it was ten minutes past seven.
8 In a strong and rather agreeable voice, cracked and coarsened by street singing, she sang in hope of getting a copper from the shop.
9 She broke off abruptly on a sentimental high note, shouted sharply to the organ grinder "Come on," and both moved on to the next shop.
10 Recognising the place, he stopped, looked round and addressed a young fellow in a red shirt who stood gaping before a corn chandler's shop.
11 Again dust, bricks and mortar, again the stench from the shops and pot-houses, again the drunken men, the Finnish pedlars and half-broken-down cabs.
12 A dark-haired young man with a barrel organ was standing in the road in front of a little general shop and was grinding out a very sentimental song.
13 Nastasya was continually out of the house, especially in the evenings; she would run in to the neighbours or to a shop, and always left the door ajar.
14 At that point there is a great block of buildings, entirely let out in dram shops and eating-houses; women were continually running in and out, bare-headed and in their indoor clothes.
15 At the tables and the barrows, at the booths and the shops, all the market people were closing their establishments or clearing away and packing up their wares and, like their customers, were going home.
16 , the billiard table in a restaurant and some officers playing billiards, the smell of cigars in some underground tobacco shop, a tavern room, a back staircase quite dark, all sloppy with dirty water and strewn with egg-shells, and the Sunday bells floating in from somewhere.