For some reason, hard to define, he was convinced that Patagonia, though reported barren, would prove a rather unsuitable place for an anchorite.
“Are you interested in mines?” she inquired, after a pause.
“Yes.”
“What sort of mines, copper or silver?”
“Neither.”
“Really, you are most informing.”
“I beg your pardon,” he said hurriedly. “My mind wandered for the moment. I was thinking how extraordinary it was that a young lady should hit on my profession so promptly.”
“No marvel at all. Rocks fall mostly on miners.”
“An excellent example of ratiocinative reasoning.”
“Don’t imagine you can crush me with a word weighing a ton. Dad and I practise them on each other. They keep our brains from rusting, a common enough process on a ranch. Have you ever lived on one?”