It made her furious that he reminded her.
"I did!" she cried. "But how was I to know!"
"I think he might have been rather nice," he said.
"You think I made him what he is!" she exclaimed.
"Oh no! He made himself. But there's something about him——"
Clara looked at her lover closely. There was something in him she hated, a sort of detached criticism of herself, a coldness which made her woman's soul harden against him.
"And what are you going to do?" she asked.
"How?"
"About Baxter."