For you everything was emotional froth: your fling in Frankfurt, and unfortunately also what you had with me. On each occasion, it wasn’t anything to do with the conditions, it lay in your nature. You needed an atmosphere of adventure, of conspiracy, to excite you. Our early days satisfied that, but as soon as a certain consolidation loomed, you made use of your freedom to scratch your itch elsewhere. Anyone capable of manipulating their feelings that way is emotionally not to be trusted. The fact that you left that piece of paper lying around I am certain has nothing to do with your wish to be honest — as you like to claim — rather, as in some corny TV drama, you were engineering the catastrophe.