"I'm sorry, Mr. Fairfield," Victor replied, "but I hadn't heard the phrase before. Perhaps I'm just unfamiliar with it, or more probably you picked it up elsewhere on your travels."
"Mmmm," Donald answered, somewhat noncommittally, "perhaps. Well, don't let me detain you. I'll just run along. Vaya con Dios," he waved as he left the room. They waited a few seconds in silence, but he didn't return.
"Will you take him on as a patient?" Mimi asked when they heard the first roaring of the crowd from the living-room.
"I'd like to very much, if you want me to. He's a fascinating case. But it won't be easy, it's going to take time."
"Oh, that's all right," she assured him. "He's not dangerous, and we've plenty of money. Take all the time you want."
"You know," he said, "I don't mind admitting I'm pretty bewildered by now." He shook his head two or three times, as if to clear it, then asked, "Where does the money come from?"
"I don't know."
"I mean, what does he do for a living?"
"I don't know. Did you ask him?"