“Nonsense! You think of nothing but copper, spoiling the face of nature with the broken rubbish your men dig out of the bowels of the earth, poisoning the air with the fumes of those abominable furnaces. Look at that!”
The old man raised his stick and made a vicious dig with it in the direction of the mine.
“Look at what?”
“That shaft. Looks like some huge worm that your men disturbed down below, and sent it crawling along the hill slope till it could rear its abominable head in the air and look which way to go to be at rest.”
“What an idea! It isn’t pretty looking. I must say.”
“Pretty looking! No. Why do you have it then?”
“It was there when I bought the mine, and it answers its purpose.”
“Bah! What purpose? To make money?”
“Yes; to make money. Very useful thing, Mr Leslie.”
“Rubbish! You’re as bad as Van Heldre with his ships and his smelting works. Money! Money! Money! Always money, morning, noon and night. One constant hunt for the accursed stuff. Look at me!”