a queasy realisation of how near she had come to loving Kennaston. The
thought nauseated her.
"My dear," he answered, kindly, "you will have any number of friends
now that you are poor. It was merely your money that kept you from
having any. You see," Mr. Kennaston went on, with somewhat the air of
one climbing upon his favourite hobby, "money is the only thing
that counts nowadays. In America, the rich are necessarily our only
aristocracy. It is quite natural. One cannot hope for an aristocracy
of intellect, if only for the reason that not one person in a thousand
has any; and birth does not count for much. Of course, it is quite