He set his empty glass on the floor and got quickly to his feet, as he always did for shouting, but he didn’t shout. Instead he peered very closely at her face, as if trying to penetrate the surface of it, and said, “My God, you really mean this, don’t you. I’ve really lost you, haven’t I. You don’t—love me anymore.”

“That’s right,” she said. “Exactly. I don’t love you anymore.”

“Well, but for Christ’s sake, Susan, why? Can you tell me why?”

“There is no why,” she said. “There’s no more why to not loving than there is to loving. Isn’t that something most intelligent people understand?”