"I've never deceived you," she said, growing bitter as she went on. "In any case, deceiving you would be a trifle compared with the crime of deceiving myself."
"Deceiving yourself?"
"Yes. Do you suppose I could ever have lived with you, without first thoroughly deceiving myself?"
Claude's anger cooled at this bitter question. Janet was now worked up, and anything was better than the killing indifference she had so far maintained. He closed her valise and sat down on it, at her side.
"Janet," he pleaded, "you were never like this before. So unyielding, so cold. And I had planned that we'd make a gala night of it. Look at these lovely flowers. Don't you understand their symbolism? I'm going to do the right thing. I mean to marry you now, here in Brussels, at once!"
"You've offered to do that before."
"Yes, but I really mean it this time."
"And I really meant it Claude, every time I refused. You see, I always assumed that your offers were made in good faith."
"You are making a fool of me."
"No one can do that but yourself."