He never could be sure of her, and he searched for words while he watched the face she had turned skywards.
"Helen, you're different now."
"And you like me less."
"I always love you."
She looked at him and smiled, and very slowly shook her head.
"Oh, no," she said pleasantly. "Oh, no, George."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Perhaps it's a riddle. You can think about it."
"Ah—you—you make me want to shake you!" He gripped her shoulders and saw her firm lips loosened, a pale colour in her cheeks, but something in her look forced him to let her go.
"I can't hurt you," he said.