"Yes," she replied, without looking up; "it's the outcrop of that mine."
She handed it to him as if to obviate any further remark. "I thought you
had seen it before."
"The outcrop," he repeated dryly. "That is--it--it--it is the indication
or sign of something important that's below it--isn't it?"
Louise shrugged her shoulders sceptically. "It don't follow. It's just
as likely to cover rubbish, after you've taken the trouble to look."
"Thanks," he said, with measured gentleness, and passed quietly out of
the room.
The moon had already risen when Bradley, with his brierwood pipe,
preceded Richardson upon the veranda. The latter threw his large frame
into Louise's rocking-chair near the edge of the abyss; Bradley, with
his own chair tilted against the side of the house after the national
fashion, waited for him to speak. The absence of Mainwaring and the
stimulus of Mrs. Bradley's graciousness had given the banker a certain
condescending familiarity, which Bradley received with amused and
ironical tolerance that his twinkling eyes made partly visible in the
darkness.
"One of the things I wanted to talk to you about, Bradley, was that old
affair of the advance you asked for from the Bank.
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