[ Her look in return is every bit as puzzled as his. ]

Y—es. But trusting you to behave honourably is not of a kind with trusting that you love me.

I have no fears of the first. I believe it entirely, and so I do not look towards guarding myself from the possibility that you might act in any other way.

I am afraid that I am not loved.

[ Softly, half to herself: ] I am always afraid I might not be loved.

Since I am afraid I have watched you as I might watch someone whose intentions were entirely unknown, who might well pose a threat to me. In my fear I have looked for signs that I am right to be afraid, and not at all for signs that I should feel myself safe. I have ignored your kindnesses in favour of any small thing I could call cold. I have ignored the time you have chosen to spend with me, the parts of your heart you have given me, and paid attention only to all the moments you are gone and the parts of your heart you share only with him.

[ She shakes her head a little, again speaks quietly. ]

I am making both of us miserable and it is because I have given my trust to my terror instead of you. I am sorry for it.