And it was this tolerance she mistrusted, not the fury.

She saw that, all the while, in spite of himself, he would have to be trying to save the world.

And this knowledge, whilst it comforted her heart somewhere with a little self-satisfaction, stability, yet filled her with a certain sharp contempt and hate of him.

She wanted him to herself, she hated the Salvator Mundi touch.

It was something diffuse and generalised about him, which she could not stand.