[The general's entire mien settles into reserve. Nothing eases his temper like being told he's right, even indirectly, but the way she's told him is like a needle. A trifling sting. Annoying. He need only wait a few seconds for it to subside and go on as if it were nothing. And so, at length:]

No... actually.

[That dull gleam in his eye, that's casual spite. He's enjoying this answer before he's even given it in full.]

I might have, but you broke our accord when you ran.

[He's keeping her letter; he's read it a dozen times, even smelled the paper it's on.]

So no, I don't think I will. If you want so badly to be on your own, then so be it.