Cornelia elevated indifferent eyebrows. "I don't know as that's any reason why you should drop money on it now! I wouldn't take any stock of Toodors beside my own convenience. It's better to own a house you ken live in, than the Garden of Eden, and be obliged to rent it out!" "There is such a thing as sentiment, Miss Briskett, though you don't seem to realise it." "Don't you make any mistake about that! I realise it right enough. I'm death on sentiment in its right place, but it takes a back seat when daily bread comes into the question." "And if I told you that I'd rather starve than desecrate the home of my ancestors--that I'd sooner end my days in a London garret than level a single wall for my own benefit--what then? Would you put me down as a madman for my pains?" Guest spoke with unwonted passion, staring down into the girl's face with challenging eyes, but Cornelia preserved her attitude of complacent, albeit commiserating, superiority. "My Poppar'd say it was sheer wickedness to see a chance of making money, and letting it slide, but I don't go so far as that. Everyone has a right to be miserable in his own way, but--I prefer to be comfortable." Her ripple of laughter struck a chill to Guest's heart. He looked at her moodily beneath knitted brows. "How is it that we always _do_ feel differently? We seem never to agree. What is the explanation, I wonder?" "We _are_ different!" returned Cornelia, simply. "The difference is deep down beneath all we say or do. We're _made_ differently from the start. You felt it the first moment we met, and I did the same. We kinder hated each other, and wanted to scratch! That was instinct! You don't get behind instinct in a hurry. Later on other things come in and muddle one up, but just in the first moment one sees clearly. You thought Elma Ramsden the sweetest thing, and were all fired up to help her, but when you looked at me you were bursting with pride and prejudice. Why was that, I want to know?" "You have answered yourself. Prejudice--a blind, ignorant prejudice, of which I am ashamed; and pride--wounded pride, because you attempted to lay down the law! Don't judge me by that unfortunate beginning, Miss Briskett. I have repented sufficiently to deserve forgiveness!" Cornelia rested her chin on her clasped hands, and stared thoughtfully over the forest of chimney-tops. "You are sorry because I'm a girl, and we've had some pretty good times together; but that don't alter the position of the case. I guess we are each pretty good types of our different nationalities. We ken't blame ourselves for that; if the truth's told, I expect we are proud of it, but it makes it impossible to feel the same way. We're bound to jolt up against each other every time we dip below the surface." "You find it impossible then to think of me as a friend?"