Diane: Rebecca, there's something wrong.
Rebecca: Oh, you could always see through my facade of gaiety. Elliot and I have parted.
Diane: Oh, Rebecca, no. You and Elliot? Oh, you were together for ever.
Rebecca: I know. It all began when Elliot got his doctorate in Ichthyology. His eye began to wander. And the first thing I knew, he'd taken up with a student on a squid expedition.
Diane: A doctorate changes a man. But there'll be others, right? In the meantime, you still have your work.
Rebecca: Oh, you'd think so. I used to find enormous comfort translating Russian poetry.
Diane: I know.
Rebecca: But no more. Even when I went back over my favourite, Karashnikov's Another Christmas of Agony, it failed to soothe me. "Mischa the dog lies dead in the bog, The children cry over the carcass, The mist chokes my heart, Covers the mourners, At least this year we eat."
Diane: Well, if that didn't pick you up, I'm at a virtual loss.