Mrs. Crombie. I beg your pardon?
Daniel. Well, I mean—it's not especially a gold mine—it's a mixed mine—a little bit of everything—there's tin and silver and salt and copper and brass, and God knows what—it's most exciting wondering what we are going to find next.
Mrs. Crombie. Yes, so I should imagine....
Daniel. Often on weary, dark nights—filled with the cries of the jackal and the boa-constrictor.
Mrs. Crombie. I didn't know boa-constrictors cried.
Daniel. Only when they are upset about something. Then they can't help it. There are few animals as highly emotional as a boa-constrictor. Anyhow, as I was saying, we lay awake in the throbbing darkness—the darkness out there always throbs—it's a most peculiar phenomenon—and wondered—Heavens, how we wondered what we should find on the following day.
Mrs. Crombie. If you'll forgive my saying so, Mr. Davis, I fear that you are a bit of a fraud.
Daniel. I beg your pardon?
Mrs. Crombie. I said I thought you were a fraud.
Daniel. Of course I am—all great men are. Look at George Washington.