But he is very much paying attention, and he does hear -- or at least the gist of it. He smooths a hand down her back, presses his cheek to her hair.

Lancelot wants to say, No, not so, no regrets, you did as you could. But he knows it would frustrate him to hear it and so he's reluctant to say so to Susan, who seems to know her own mind so well. It's not surprising she should feel as she does; his best recourse, he thinks, is to be solid, be warm, hear whatever she will say. Not to argue.