“And what is particularly eligible in the property Mr. Boffin, is, that it involves no trouble. There are no estates to manage, no rents to return so much percent upon in bad times (which is an extremely dear way of getting your name into the newspapers), no voters to become parboiled in hot water with, no agents to take the cream off the milk before it comes to table. You could put the whole in a cashbox tomorrow morning, and take it with you to⁠—say, to the Rocky Mountains. Inasmuch as every man,” concluded Mr. Lightwood, with an indolent smile, “appears to be under a fatal spell which obliges him, sooner or later, to mention the Rocky Mountains in a tone of extreme familiarity to some other man, I hope you’ll excuse my pressing you into the service of that gigantic range of geographical bores.”

Without following this last remark very closely, Mr. Boffin cast his perplexed gaze first at the ceiling, and then at the carpet.