He examined them critically, then kissed them uncritically.
"They don't look like a washer-woman's hands yet," he said.
"No," she said, "not yet. But please say they look less and less like a sculptor's."
"You will," said Barbara, "when the things dry".
"Barbara," he said, "they look more and more like a dear's. But tell me, aren't you getting bored with it--missing New York things and all and all?"
"No," she said stoutly, "I'm not. I'm useful here in some ways. And I was about as useful there as--as all the other people. I'm not even worried about the mines."
"Neither am I. But development's a great deal slower than I thought. We've still plenty of money. And the moment we begin to ship ore, we'll have plenty of credit which is just as useful. No! I'm not worried. We're going to be rich, and we're going to live in a palace."
"And then what?"