with the pride of the Cymry.

'My aunt,' said she, 'used to tell me that until disaster came upon
my uncle, and they were reduced to living upon a very narrow income,
he and she never really knew what love was--they never really knew
how rich their hearts were in the capacity of loving.'

'Ah, I thought so,' I said bitterly. 'I thought the text was,

Love in a hut, with water and a crust.'

'No,' said Winifred firmly, 'that was not the text. She believed that
the wolf must not be very close to the door behind which love is
nestling.'

'Then what did she believe? In the name of common-sense, Winnie, what
did she believe?'

'She believed,' said Winnie, her cheek flushing and her eyes
brightening as she went on, 'that of all the schemes devised by man's
evil genius to spoil his nature, to make him self-indulgent, and
luxurious, and tyrannical, and incapable of understanding what the
word "love" means, the scheme of showering great wealth upon him is
the most perfect.'

'Ah, yes, yes; the old nonsense. Easier for a camel to pass through
the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of love.
And in what way did she enlarge upon this most charitable theme?'

'She told me dreadful things about the demoralising power of riches