[ His gaze lowers. A keen pain lances through him. But he keeps his voice light, saying - ]

Well, he's kneeling beside you right now. So rip away. [ He reaches out, though, and places one of her hands on his cheek, leaning against it. It soothes him. He feels strangely flushed, but her hand is cool. ] Don't love me, Lakshmi. Not with anything more than the piteous love you give a beggar. Preserve that love - for someone more worthy. For yourself. For your children.