"How?" She spreads a hand up and lets it drop. Somewhere in some internal ledger he gets a point for tamping down his interest without pretending it never was. "It's been eight months and he hasn't come around. I can't just give in. He'll think that means he's right, and he isn't. And how can I--." It only takes a second, but she stops, pulls back the rise in her voice, marshals her expression, folds her arms neatly on the table in front of her and starts again.

"I can't just give in now, after all of this. How can I live with myself if I go back to pretending I don't see the harm in what he does?"