I'm not going to take a house and fill it with guests who will be consistently unpleasant, as the Benefactress did.

And I'm not going to build a sort of fairy palace and commit suicide from the roof like the millionaire in that book _Midas_ something or other.

And I _hope_ I'm not going to lose my imagination and forget what it feels like to be poor, and send a girl with a small dress allowance half a dozen muslin handkerchiefs at Christmas." "I suppose you know, Jean--I don't want to be discouraging--that you will get very little gratitude, that the people you try to help will smarm to your face and blackguard you behind your back?
You will be hurt and disappointed times without number....

You see, my dear, I've had money for quite a lot of years, and I know." Jean nodded.
They were crossing the wide bridge over Tweed and she stopped and, leaning her arms on the parapet, gazed up at Peel Tower.
"Let's look at Peel for a little," she said.

"It's been there such a long time and must have seen so many people trying to do their best and only succeeding in making mischief.