[She shrugs, as if to say she wouldn't mind. In point of fact, it would agitate her, but she doesn't know that. She has no strong memory of being spoken down to by her own parents. Those memories have passed into oblivion. The treatment she most resents came after childhood. Some archaic traditions are inseparable from purist ideology. Boys are the legacy of the father, girls are the vanity of the mother. When her politically like-minded male friends ceased to be friends and became her prospects, it was hard not to feel sold.

But it's not something she would've shielded her sisters from, obviously. Andromeda's forgiven for nothing.]

A child has the freedom to do many things without ever being suspected of having done them.

[She's feeling generous.] If it will satisfy you, I'll suspect you of everything. [Like a grown up. Like he wants.]

It's our task to wring more out of ourselves, and give that too.

You would, wouldn't you?

[He doesn't have to answer. On her part, this is a simple acceptance of a mutual truth. She has no tolerance for empty vows and platitudes. If he proves less than equal to his declaration, she'll hurt him in every way. That's what comes of speaking to her. She holds everyone to everything, and permits no change.]