Meredith wants to say she doesn't give a damn what Maeve did or didn't love. She doesn't want to know about her, not anything, though the not knowing makes it easier to imagine she was utterly perfect in every way. It's better if she stays a blank. Instead she makes a noise, some hum of agreement, blank herself. "Couldn't just leave it," she says. "Right." That seems blatantly unfair after the way he acted about the stupid ring she found, but she doesn't want to think about that either, about any of it, about anything.