“He doesn’t make me feel that at all. He’s a draper’s son and proud of it, and he has a very high opinion of me. Stupidly high. He thinks I’m marvellous.” The word was choking. There was a frown between Gareth’s eyes. “Why is that bad?” The urge to pour it all out was overwhelming. He’d always told Gareth, if not everything, more than he told anyone else: painful truths and little hurts and secret shames. He couldn’t tell Gareth, of all men, this.
