'He would not come,' said Gladys proudly. 'He would never come. He said so again and again.'
'Then it seems to me that it is you who are lacking in proper pride,' said Clara calmly.
'What is proper pride?'
Gladys smiled with the faintest touch of scorn as she asked the question.
'You know what it is just as well as I can tell you, only it pleases you to be perverse this morning,' said Clara good-humouredly, 'and I am not going to say any more.'
'Yes you are. I want to understand this thing. Is it imperative that the mere fact that my uncle has left me money and a house should make me a different person altogether?'
'It affects your position, not necessarily you. Don't be silly and aggravating, Gladys, or I must shake you,' said Clara, with the frank candour of a privileged friend. 'And really I cannot understand why you should be anxious to keep in touch with that old life, which was so awfully mean and miserable.'
'It had compensations,' said Gladys quickly. 'And I do think, that if it is all as you say, there is more sincerity among poor people than among rich. There is no court paid, anyhow, to money and position.'
'My dear, you are not at all complimentary to us,' laughed Clara. 'Your ingenuousness is truly refreshing.'
'I am not speaking about you, and you know it quite well,' answered Gladys. 'But if the world is as fond of outward things as you say, I do not wish to know anything of it. I could not feel at home in it, I am sure.'