"Nothing. There is no secret, dear. You're fancying things."
"No, I'm not. I ... I ..."
"You know?" he asked, loudly, with his eyes looking into hers.
She started.
"N-no," she stammered. "I ... I don't know anything ... but ... I feel ..."
"What?"
"That there's a secret that's depressing you."
"What about?"
"About ... about something that's happened ..."
"You know," he said.