"I cared—genuinely. I cared so much that I wanted to make you happy." He hesitated. "But I couldn't make myself to be the man you loved."
"No, it was just a mistake," she agreed.
"You're very generous, dear."
She shook her head.
"Oh, no—it was my fault most of all. I didn't understand. There are things I don't understand even now."
"What things?"
"Wickie—and—and—that. It seems so wrong—just a dog. You love life so—Tris."
"I love living things—I can't help it—helpless living things most of all. Even now I can't judge what I did—it's the old problem—how far one has the right to punish—to resist evil. But I haven't any real theories. I can't bear pain—that's all."
Her eyes softened.
"I know. You have been so good—so tender to me. Last night I understood better all you are—but it's too late——"