Dimbie is "on" the Stock Exchange. Peter calls it a sink of iniquity and its denizens liars and thieves. One of the liars and thieves married me on the strength of a good deal in Rio Tintos. Rio Tintos must be beautiful things to have been the means of giving us so much happiness. Dimbie says they are not, that they are just plain copper mines in Spain. Dimbie is mistaken. Copper is one of the most beautiful of metals with its red-gold, warm colour. It is the most romantic of metals. A tin mine in Cornwall would never have done for us what Rio Tintos have done, I feel convinced. The dictionary says copper was perhaps the first metal employed by man, which makes it doubly interesting to me. Each day I scan the financial column of the paper to see if Rio Tintos are up or down. Dimbie says he has no interest in them now, and smiles at my eagerness, but it makes no difference. The words stand to me for happiness, and I shall search for them always.
CHAPTER II
NANTY DISCOURSES ON THE WRITING OF BOOKS
When I casually mentioned to Nanty—yesterday afternoon over our tea—that I had begun to write a book I was unprepared for her opposition, which almost amounted to a command that I should do nothing of the kind. But then she misunderstood me from the very beginning, which was only natural now I come to reflect upon it, added to which she has a disconcerting habit of jumping to conclusions.
At the outset of our conversation her manner was depressed as she looked into the fire.
"Ah, well," she said at length, "it can't be helped! I suppose you mean a first-person, diary, daily-round sort of book?"
I nodded, pleased at her acumen.
"It is the worst and most tiresome kind, but perhaps it will be best for your poor husband."
"My poor husband!" I echoed.