'Did you know? You do this strange little thing with your bottom lip when you lie,' he'd told her once, and he has no doubt she's doing it now. If she wasn't hurt, she wouldn't have fled to her room.

He sinks down to a crouch, and wraps an arm around his knees. "Oswin," he murmurs, pressing his forehead and free palm against the door. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. And it's not because I'm decent, but because I did hurt you. I don't know how to tell you that I still want to be your friend, if you'll have me, and that I don't care if you spy on me or not."