She hated the way his voice sometimes became filled with self-loathing.   He’d saved her without a second thought, without even hesitation.  He’d bought this flat and furnished it and bought little Lynx, who was purring away, and the moment he’d learned about Pansy he returned to spending all his waking hours taking old books into his room and pouring over them in deathly silence.   "You’re a better man than you think," she said. "I wish you saw yourself the way I do."