Katya. What could I say?
Mariana. Really, Katya, you’re frightfully exasperating. You always seem to be on the point of telling me things, but you never do.
Katya. Well, there’s nothing to tell—nothing, that is, that you don’t know already.
Mariana. Oh, how dreadfully disappointing! Isn’t there really more in it than that?
Katya. Than what?
Mariana. Than what I know already.
Katya. But what do you know?
* * *