There were tears in her voice.
A few hours earlier his answer would have brought fire to her eyes and anger to her voice.

But a real change had come over her, not lasting, perhaps, but strong in its immediate effects.
"Not even a little friendship left ?" she said, breaking the silence that followed.
"I cannot change myself," he answered, almost wishing that he could.

"I ought, perhaps," he added, as though speaking to himself.

"I have done enough harm as it is." "Harm?
To whom ?" She looked round suddenly and he saw the moisture in her eyes.
"To him," he replied, glancing at Kafka, "and to you.

You loved him once.