Jack stopped walking again. He said, staring past Simon rather than at him, 'He talked to me.'
'He listened,' Jack said, 'he made time for me.' He looked quickly at Simon. He said, quite slowly, 'He didn't make me feel I was just a bloody messy teenage pest.'
Simon's face twitched.
'He's in this grotty flat,' Jack said. 'He 's only got his clothes and some books. but he never--'
'He never what?'
'He never asked me to be sorry for him. He was just sorry for me.'
'Because he knew,' Jack said loudly. 'He knows.'
Simon said tentatively, 'And I don't?'
Jack's gaze dropped. He kicked at the uneven edge of a pavement slab.
'I don't know what you know,' he said. 'How can I? You never say.'
in Trollope, Joanna. (2000) Marrying the Mistress. Black Swan Book. London. Pág. 255