“You don’t look that sort of person. Really, Mr. Power, you and I will get on famously together if we tell each other the real truth. Are we to be fellow-passengers as far as Valparaiso?”
“Yes.”
“There, you see! Those other Philistines would have smirked and said, ‘I hope so.’ I shall enjoy this trip. Generally, a sea-voyage bores me.”
“Are you much traveled, then?”
“I live in Patagonia.”
“Does that statement answer my question?”
“Well, yes. No one lives in Patagonia for amusement, and some among those who are compelled to reside there get away as often as their means permit. Patagonian boarding-houses don’t advertise ‘young and musical society,’ I assure you. Our population is something under one to the square mile.”
“My knowledge of the Patagonian is limited; but I have always understood that he requires just about that amount of space.”
“Ah, no! Our poor giants are nearly extinct. There is hardly a hundred of them, all told.”
“My! Who, or what, cleared them out?”