'Yes, I saw a picture of her ...'

'Of her with Henri at the Iles Borromees!' She shrugged her shoulders. 'It's sad. He isn't proud of it, you know. It's even strange: he suggested that we stop sleeping together, as if he no longer felt worthy of me,' she concluded slowly.

I felt like saying to her, 'Stop lying to yourself!' But what right did I have? And in a way, I even admired her obstinacy.