"Get it out.

It's obvious that the thing is suffocating you.

I'll tell nobody--not even that you've told me--neither Doria nor Barbara--it will be the confidence of the confessional.

You'll be all the better for it.

Believe me." He shrugged himself free from my grasp and turned away; his nervous fingers plucked unconsciously at his evening tie until it was loosened and the ends hung dissolutely over his shirt front.
"You're very good, Hilary," said he, looking at every spot in the room except my eyes.