“When was I in a fearful state?” he asked.
“When you first came to me. I had to take pity on you. But it was never love.”
It was that statement “It was never love,” which sounded in his ears with madness.
“Why must you repeat it so often, that there is no love?” he said in a voice strangled with rage.
“Well you don’t think you love, do you?” she asked.
He was silent with cold passion of anger.
“You don’t think you can love me, do you?” she repeated almost with a sneer.
“No,” he said.
“You know you never have loved me, don’t you?”
“I don’t know what you mean by the word “love,” he replied.