Demelza was mostly silent whilst Llew talked. She hardly felt like interrupting with all the little interjections that kept popping up in her mind when this was the first time he was actually saying anything about what he was feeling. By the time he got to the end, though, all those little interjections had snowballed into one big exasperation. "I had to go," she tried to explain. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I did what I thought was best." And how could she explain the way she was feeling - had been feeling for the past year at that point? Nothing about the war was resolved for her at that point in time. Rhys ending his life was the last straw and in some ill-advised desperate attempt to solve it, she'd kissed Llew. And then slept with Llew. And then realised only much too late that she couldn't do this - not with him. It was using him and she hadn't been able to shake the guilt of it ever since. Switzerland was good for her. She'd managed to pull herself together whilst she was over there, brushed up on her German, figured out what the hell she wanted to do - learned to meaning and the hardship of independence (although, obviously, not learning how to cook independently). And she thought it would be good for him. She thought that, perhaps, as she couldn't be both his best friend and the girl who just broke his heart at the same time that the distance would solve that for them. And it was beginning to occur to her that perhaps she was wrong.
His attitude towards the end just felt like a horrible kick to the stomach. "Why did you let this all just brew up?"