1 'Well, thanks,' repeated Bazarov.
2 No, thanks; I don't care about it.
3 My eyes have been opened lately, thanks to one feeling.
4 I have never experienced anything of that sort, thanks to my sister.
5 Of course, my mind is made up, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
6 And now, my dear sir, it only remains for me to thank you and to leave you to your studies.
7 And I felt such a hatred for this poorest peasant, this Philip or Sidor, for whom I'm to be ready to jump out of my skin, and who won't even thank me for it.
8 Katya put a footstool under her feet; the old lady did not thank her, did not even look at her, only her hands shook under the yellow shawl, which almost covered her feeble body.
9 Yes, yes,' he would say to some peasant woman in a man's cloak, and a cap shaped like a horn, as he handed her a bottle of Goulard's extract or a box of white ointment, 'you ought to be thanking God, my good woman, every minute that my son is staying with me; you will be treated now by the most scientific, most modern method.