'It seems a matter of self-preservation,' I said.
'No, no; I won't speak of it! I won't think of it.' He began again to
walk excitedly up and down the room. 'I won't think of it, I tell you. I
could not.'
Neither Matteo nor I spoke.
'Why don't you speak?' he said to Matteo, impatiently.
'I am thinking,' he answered.
'Not of that; I forbid you to think of that. I will not have it.' Then,
after a pause, abruptly, as if he were angry with us and with himself,
'Leave me!'
V
A few days later, Matteo came to me as I was dressing, having rescued my
clothes from him.
'I wonder you're not ashamed to go out in those garments,' he remarked,
'people will say that you wear my old things.'