How in Hades could she know I've written the rotten book?
She thinks it's Adrian's.

And she thinks I've spoiled it.
She's perfectly justified.

For the little footling services I rendered her on the journey, she's idiotically grateful--out of all proportion.
As for Persia, she knows nothing about it--" "She ought to," said I.
"If you tell her, I'll break your neck," roared Jaffery.
"All right," said I, desiring to remain whole.

"So long as you're satisfied, it doesn't much matter to me." It didn't.

After all, one has one's own life to live, and however understanding of one's friends and sympathetically inclined towards them one may be, one cannot follow them emotionally through all their bleak despairs and furious passions.