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That I'll invest in a Class A building in San Francisco. I'm also in this projected electric railway of Boutts's would advise you to buy a block of that stock I can let you in on the ground floor. Money and political power, boss of this State that's what I'm after and no idle dream either. I know the ropes, and all I have to do is to hang on.
Boutts's mother had been the daughter of an Italian restaurant keeper in San Francisco, and his heiress inherited a fine flashing pair of black eyes, a mass of black hair, and a voluptuous but buoyant figure.
Boutts's hands gripped his knees as if for anchorage, and he proceeded, firmly: "No offence, sir, I assure you. This is a free country. The man who tells another man what he'd orter do should be called down good and hard. Nothing could be further from our intention.
Whereupon he swore vigorously, and vowed that he would forget her until the skies cleared. But "the skies they were ashen and sober," and he caught himself dreaming over his "Torts," or during one of Mr. Boutts's ecstatic visions of Rosewater with a great hotel in the style of the old Missions, and an electric railway.
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