"My uncle?"

Mary shakes her head, almost immediately - she's growing fonder of her uncle (or at least, more used to him) but she's used to thinking of him as wrong, always, on this sort of thing.

"My uncle does not know much about love. He is very bad at it. He only did it once before - and I think he wished he had not and did not care.

"But it is worse to not care. I know that. Even if it hurts to. And it does hurt very much now."

She says it all in the same flat, honest tone. This is how it is.