"You ought not to leave Uncle Bernique and Piney, I am sure of that," she said at last earnestly, almost commandingly.
"Heigh-ho! I think Bernique is getting restless, too. He will be drifting off soon on that tidal wave of ore fever that comes over him; Piney has been gone for a great while. It's pretty lonely. It's getting on my nerves. Of course I shouldn't pet my nerves if I had any hope about the run here, but I haven't. I think that the work we have carried on is fairly conclusive."
"But wait a minute, didn't you buy this land? Didn't you put some money in it?"
Steering laughed blithely. "Not much," he said. The thing that made him laugh was the fact that though it was not much it was all that he had, and it was, in a way, amusing to consider how he was to get away from Canaan. Looking at Sally Madeira, who suggested luxury nonchalantly, trouble about ways and means was bound to be untimely and laughable. Indeed, looking at Sally Madeira all troubles were more or less laughable.
"You haven't gone to Europe?" he reminded her, after he had drunk her health in the coffee.
"No! I haven't gone."
"Are you going?"
"Not unless Father's health improves."
"Isn't he well?"
"No," her face clouded sadly, "he is over-working. Oh, you don't know how sorry I am," she began, and faltered.