"Yes you are," he says, not even allowing the remotest possibility of indulging the lie. He goes on at once, saying, relentless, "Do you think I have any intentions of hurting you?" He keeps his eyes fixed on hers. I wouldn't ever, he's suddenly tempted to say, hands trembling - please believe me - But it's been nearly twenty years, now, since he begged for understanding; he's damned far beyond that by this point in his life.

So instead, he lifts his eyebrows, and looks away, and tries to recover some of his composure. Tries to be ironic and breezy once again. "I'm almost flattered. I think you could beat me up, frankly."