“I don’t. I could almost say, I hate her as she hates me.”
“Why?” she asked, in a frightened voice. “You don’t know her. You can’t hate her.”
“I am different from other people, am I not, mevrouw? I say different things and I say them differently. You know it, you knew it before I entered your house!” he said, almost fiercely.
“What do you mean?”
“I want to say something to you.”
“What is it?”
“That child ... that delicate, that lily-white child ... is....”
“The danger to your domestic happiness.”
She gave a violent start: