He looked at me with wounded eyes. I had done it again. If I was proud of it?
Pride had not graced its presence in my body for a long time. With each one, after each pair of eyes had stared at me with a despaired gaze, a little dignity left along with them. It didn’t make it easier and it wasn’t at all planned. That’s just the way it turned out.
So I’m not sure the relevance of speaking of pride. The answer is seemingly evident, isn’t it?