"Forsaking all others?"
"Yes," she said, "I thought about that, too! I'm human. Feelings come over me. I'm maybe even like a kleptomaniac that can't resist a box of tacks in a hardware store or a pair of cheap earrings on a counter. Maybe I could learn to choke it down. Control it. I did—for months."
"And now?"
"Now it doesn't matter."
"Months isn't years."
Her eyes fixed on mine. They were not defiant now—but speculative. "Sure. So I'm human. So Paul knew that. I told him he couldn't expect a letter-perfect show, forever."
"Did you?"
"Certainly, I did. And what did he say? He said I couldn't expect one from him, either."
"He's being pretty—devoted—right now."