anything of Grushenka’s words. “Come, why are we sitting here? What shall we do … to amuse ourselves again?”
“Ach, it’s certainly anything but amusing!” Kalganov mumbled lazily.
“Let’s play faro again, as we did just now,” Maximov tittered suddenly.
“Faro? Splendid!” cried Mitya. “If only the panovie —”
“It’s lite, panovie ,” the Pole on the sofa responded, as it were unwillingly.
“That’s true,” assented Pan Vrublevsky.
“Lite? What do you mean by ‘lite’?” asked Grushenka.
“Late, pani ! ‘a late hour’ I mean,” the Pole on the sofa explained.
“It’s always late with them. They can never do anything!” Grushenka almost shrieked in her anger. “They’re dull themselves, so they want others to be dull. Before you came, Mitya, they were just as silent and kept turning up their noses at me.”
“My goddess!” cried the Pole on