"Please, don't let us talk nonsense, grandfather."

"You would have to be ashamed, perhaps, of ever having taught for your
living."

"Now that I never should be--never, not if they made me a duchess."

"You would go dressed in silk and velvet. My dear, I should like to
see you dressed up just for once, as we have seen them at the
theater."

"Well, I should like one velvet dress in my life. Only one. And it
should be crimson--a beautiful, deep, dark crimson."

"Very good. And you would drive in a carriage instead of an omnibus;
you would sit in the stalls instead of the upper circle; you would
give quantities of money to poor people; and you would buy as many
second hand books as you pleased. There are rich people, I believe,
ostentatious people, who buy new books. But you, my dear, have been
better brought up. No books are worth buying till they have stood the
criticism of a whole generation at least. Never buy new books, my
dear."

"I won't," said Iris. "But, you dear old man, what have you got in
your head to-night? Why in the world should we talk about getting
rich?"

"I was only thinking," he said, "that perhaps, you might be so much
happier--"