"Is he--"

"Yes, he's the nicest kind of a boy."

"How old is he!"

"Twenty-eight."

Donna was thoughtful.

"Nice disparity in ages, don't you think, Miss Donna?"

Donna blushed again. "What is his business!" she asked.

"Well, that's a right hard question to answer, Miss Donna. He was a
lawyer once for about a month, after he got out o' college, an' then he
worked on a newspaper. After that, just to prove he was a human bein',
he got the notion that there was money in the chicken business. Well,
he got out o' the chicken business with a couple o' hundred dollars,
an' then he come breezin' into a minin' camp one day an' tried bustin'
a faro bank. Failed agin. I'm responsible for that failure, though. The
next I see of him is a year later, in McKittrick, where he's runnin' a
real estate office an' dealin' in oil lands. But somehow there never
was no oil on none o' the land that Bob tied up, so he got plumb
disgusted an' quit. He was thinkin' o' tourin' the country districts
sellin' little pieces o' bluestone to put in the bowls of kerosene
lamps to keep 'em from explodin', when I see him next. He borrowed
fifty dollars from me--which he ain't paid back yet, come to think on't
--an' went to Nevada minin' an' just at present he's about settled into