"They can't. He's in church and she's upstairs in the bedrooms."
"Can't you leave that animal and come somewhere where we can talk?"
"Come, then."
He followed her out through the hall and into the small, oak-panelled dining-room. They sat down there in chairs that faced each other on either side of the fireplace.
"What is it?" she repeated. "Have you got a pain?"
"A beastly pain."
"How long have you had it?"
"Ever since you went away. I lied when I told you it was Colin. It isn't."
"What is it, then? Tell me. Tell me."
"It's not seeing you. It's this insane life we're leading. It's making me ill. You don't know what it's been like. And I can't keep my promise. I—I love you too damnably."