The temptation to share the misery was strong, for a few seconds. It was rare indeed to see her so unstable, and he knew he could have pushed her even further without too much difficulty, if he chose to.
But even as low as he was, he couldn't quite bring himself to try to make her cry. He shifted his weight, staring down into the fire for some time before looking back up at her. "You had to do something," he said quietly. "I know." If he could do without acknowledging that t was because he had done nothing, all the better - he pushed forward. "I've upset you, my dear. I'm sorry. You really should go to bed." ... Which was what they'd started arguing about, of course. He resolved then and there that the next time this happened, he was locking himself in the cellar until it passed. He really could not be trusted to open his mouth.