“I suppose it is not a very easy matter to dispose of an undeveloped mine?” she inquired.
Weston smiled rather dryly.
“It can be done without much trouble if you’re content to give the thing away, but it’s rather different if you wish to sell it. In fact, until the last week I’d no idea how hard the latter was.”
“Then you have been here a week?”
There was a hint of reproach in her tone, and Weston, who understood her to mean that she was a little astonished that he had not presented himself earlier, realized that here was an opportunity that he might have profited by had he only succeeded in selling the mine. As it was, he let it pass, for he felt that if once he let himself go he would probably say a good deal more than was advisable.
“Yes,” he said, with a laugh. “Still, at the rate I’m progressing, several months will hardly see me through.”
Ida had formed a reasonably accurate notion of what was in his mind, and she was half vexed with him and half pleased. He was, at least, consistent, and meant to persist in the attitude he had adopted; but it was significant that he evidently was afraid to venture an inch outside his defenses. After all, she decided that it was probably advisable that he should remain behind them in the meanwhile. It was, however, more or less of a relief to her when her father came in. He did not appear in the least astonished to see Weston, and shook hands with him as though it were the most natural thing to find him sitting there.
“Business in this city?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Weston, “I’ve been endeavoring to sell a mine.”
“Then you struck the lode?”