No one wants to talk about things like that – oh, they think they do, truly, but where does it get them? Spilling your feelings all about like dross, and no one ever cares except to grub them over with sticky little fingers, enjoying your misery.

[ Not that she has any strong, shrill feelings about that. Absolutely not – or absolutely yes, but she’s choosing to be difficult, as she so often does. ]

What do you get out of it, hm? Your curiosity satisfied? A little tale to tell?