"I thought I told you," he added.

"No, you didn't," she contradicted, suddenly recovering her
voice. "You didn't do anything of the kind."

Drouet listened to her in astonishment. This was something new.

"I thought I did," he said.

Carrie looked around her very solemnly, and then went over to the
window.

"You oughtn't to have had anything to do with him," said Drouet
in an injured tone, "after all I've done for you."

"You," said Carrie, "you! What have you done for me?"

Her little brain had been surging with contradictory feelings--
shame at exposure, shame at Hurstwood's perfidy, anger at
Drouet's deception, the mockery he had made at her. Now one
clear idea came into her head. He was at fault. There was no
doubt about it. Why did he bring Hurstwood out--Hurstwood, a
married man, and never say a word to her? Never mind now about
Hurstwood's perfidy--why had he done this? Why hadn't he warned
her? There he stood now, guilty of this miserable breach of
confidence and talking about what he had done for her!

"Well, I like that," exclaimed Drouet, little realising the fire
his remark had generated. "I think I've done a good deal."