He was greatly interested.

He withdrew from the conversation.

Thoughtful, he leaned back in his place, stroking the bridge of his beak-like nose with a crooked forefinger.
Cedarquist turned to Harran and began asking details as to the conditions of the wheat growers of the San Joaquin.

Lyman still maintained an attitude of polite aloofness, yawning occasionally behind three fingers, and Presley was left to the company of his own thoughts.
There had been a day when the affairs and grievances of the farmers of his acquaintance--Magnus, Annixter, Osterman, and old Broderson--had filled him only with disgust.

His mind full of a great, vague epic poem of the West, he had kept himself apart, disdainful of what he chose to consider their petty squabbles.