One reaches a point, she said with appalling youthful simplicity, where nothing that concerns one matters any longer.

But something did keep her back.

I should have never guessed what it was.

She herself confessed that it seemed absurd to say.
It was the Fyne dog.
Flora de Barral paused, looking at me, with a peculiar expression and then went on.

You see, she imagined the dog had become extremely attached to her.