There is no answer in it.

There is no yes I did and no no I didn’t and no account of when or where she had supposedly caught us.

There is only the pivot, instantly, to his own wound: after everything you’d been put through.

Straight back onto the numbers.

Straight back to the only subject on which her son could be relied upon to stop asking questions.

“You used that,” I said, “to make him doubt his own daughters.