She tried to ignore him, and the trembling in her hands as she threw more and more clothes into the suitcase, onto the floor, even towards the bed in her haste to get away. She wasn't prepared for him to grab the shirt she was holding--which was his, actually--and force her to look up at him.
"I ran away," she said bleakly. "All I could think about was you, and...I ran away Neville. I ran away." She kept repeating it, and felt the despair start to take over. It only made her angrier and she wrenched the shirt out of his hands, deciding she'd packed enough.
"And if I hadn't been with you all these months, I'd have trained more. I'd have been ready and I could have killed him." She knew she was being irrational, but she'd never been more scared than she was now. "But I ran away. Do you understand what that means? I acted the coward and ran!"