Cornelia sat with a clenched hand.

"You are rich and he is poor," was the keynote of her thoughts, repeated from minute to minute.

"And it is gold gives you the right in the world's eye to despise him!" she apostrophized the vanished Laura, clothing gold with all the baseness of that person.

Now, when one really hates gold, one is at war with one's fellows.

The tide sets that way.