"However selfish you were before getting rid of Peter Jones, you were at least considerate and apologetic. Genuinely. Or so you seemed."
"I said I was sorry about forgetting. You're upset, and you're basing your criticism on that."
"No, Matthew. That's exactly what I'm talking about. This new way you're behaving. You say you are meeting with 'Harrell' - whatever happened to 'William,' your friend?"
"He's not my friend, Greta. He's a business partner."
"Oh, of course. Pardon me. And is that what we are too, Matthew?
Business partners?"
He shook his head as if to say he'd had enough. In fact, she thought, that was what was wrong, that he'd had enough of them, of the dead end that their marriage had turned into.
With an disgusted huff she poured herself more of the good French wine, held the glass beneath her nose and she gazed out the window at the reflecting pond beyond the foot of their estate.
"Maybe, Matthew, we should talk. Don't you think, especially since tonight is our anniversary, that we should talk? What's happened to us?"
"Dear, I can't," he said, pausing to wash down a mouthful of food with a swallow of wine. "I'm going to be up until six in the morning as it is. And I've got an early flight. I'll just be able to jog and shower."
He ate and she drank in silence for a few minutes, until she could stand it no more.