I have never had to complain of her yet, she may have a finale in store.
It's true that I love wild Wales.'

'And so do I' Caroline raised her eyes to imagined mountains.

'You will pardon me, Camminy,' said Mr. Adister.

The lawyer cracked his back to bow to the great gentleman so
magnanimously humiliating himself. 'Sir! Sir!' he said. 'Yes, Welsh
blood is queer blood, I own. They find it difficult to forgive; and
trifles offend; and they are unhappily just as secretive as they are
sensitive. The pangs we cause them, without our knowing it, must be
horrible. They are born, it would seem, with more than the common
allowance of kibes for treading on: a severe misfortune for them. Now
for their merits: they have poetry in them; they are valiant; they are
hospitable to teach the Arab a lesson: I do believe their life is their
friend's at need--seriously, they would lay it down for him: or the
wherewithal, their money, their property, excepting the three-stringed
harp of three generations back, worth now in current value sixpence
halfpenny as a curiosity, or three farthings for firewood; that they'll
keep against their own desire to heap on you everything they have--if
they love you, and you at the same time have struck their imaginations.
Offend them, however, and it's war, declared or covert. And I must admit
that their best friend can too easily offend them. I have lost excellent
clients, I have never understood why; yet I respect the remains of their
literature, I study their language, I attend their gatherings and
subscribe the expenses; I consume Welsh mutton with relish; I enjoy the
Triads, and can come down on them with a quotation from Catwg the Wise:
but it so chanced that I trod on a kibe, and I had to pay the penalty.
There's an Arabian tale, Miss Adister, of a peaceful traveller who ate a