“Ghastly.”
“And everyone grubbing for gold, eh?”
“Every mother’s son doing nothing else. Night and day; day and night. It’s all they think of—where I came from.”
“Must be depressing.”
“It’s killing.”
Aunt Philomela was following every word breathlessly. The girl, too, held herself ready to rush into the breach should there be need.
“You didn’t like it then?” asked Carl.
“No. That’s why I left.”
“I suppose a lot of men don’t get much out of it even after putting up with all the hardships.”
“Nothing. I know a man who has cleaned up two million dollars without getting anything out of it.”