Down below, at his empty table, Leander sighs. As he begins to stand up, to gather his empty plate and all, a confession:

"I thought I might make sport of your work, but there really isn't a point, is there? It reflects especially poorly on me, since you've the mind of a person half your age—and it's not as though it happened suddenly. This is just what you're like. Honestly, I don't know what I expected."