A wrinkle in her brow from confusion as he speaks. She is backed against the filthy wall as flat as she can get, the bone in her skull grinding into the brick by the force of her repulsion. She's afraid. More so because she knows his face, knows his voice, knows his kindness at one time.
"I..." She closes her eyes again, afraid of what might happen next. He moves back and then comes in again. A wave of wrong. How was she to know he longed for her. She had been such a nugget of naivete back then. Sheltered was hardly a big enough word. Even now her gullibility was disastrous.
The matrimony between her and Matthew was a deal made in without her. She is property. Nothing more. At least not in the eyes of Matthew. She's probably less.