"But it's never like here—or in the mountains."
"It's such a closed feeling, people, too many people. Maybe we can meet before I go to Guanajuato. When I wrote you about the mine it didn't seem so serious. The manager thinks the mine is giving out."
"So serious ... I hope not."
"Without that income, what shall I do?"
Breaking open a crisp roll, he studied her and considered the problem. He had descended the mine's moldy ladders. He had checked the ore, had had it assayed, had estimated the output. Few mines had less to offer, for both gold and silver ran low. The copper percentage might pay, but no copper smelter existed in Guanajuato.
"I hope I can help. I'll send Señor Rul around to check for you. Maybe it's a case of mismanagement."
"I trust my man.... He can't produce ore if there isn't any ore."
"Let's not let it worry us, Lucienne."
"I hear that the peons are quitting, are in revolt," she said, when they were alone in the dining room. "My people whisper. I pick up remarks."
"What do you hear? Is it about Palma Sola?"