‘It always interests me,’ said Pierre with astonishment.
‘But you never ask me questions spontaneously.’
‘I feel that as soon as you have something to say, you say it to me,’ said Pierre.
He stared at her a little uneasily.
‘When did it happen?’
‘What?’ said Françoise.
‘That I didn’t ask question?’
‘Several times recently,’ said Françoise with a little laugh. You looked as if you were thinking of somthing else.’
She hesitated, doubtful. Confronted with Pierre’s trust, she was ashamed. Every time she had kept silence with regard to him she had prepared an ambush into which he had quietly fallen. He did not suspect that she had been laying traps for him. Wasn’t she the one who had changed? Wasn’t it she who was lying when she spoke of blissful love, of happiness, of jealousy overcome? Her words, her behaviour no longer corresponded fully to her deeper feelings. And he continued to believe her. Was that faith or indifference?
– Simone de Beauvoir, She Came to Stay