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I am not," Sir Richard continued, "a good-natured man, but some devilish impulse prompted me to help that fellow. I gave him money three or four times. Somehow, I don't think it's a very good thing to give a man money. He doesn't value it it comes too easily. He spends it and wants more." "There's a good deal of truth in what you say, Sir Richard," Peter Ruff admitted.

"Well, now," asked the minister, "as to what in particular?" "Chiefly as to the way he's squandering his money." "Oh, I wasn't aware Mr. Horn had become a spendthrift! You must have been misinformed, Mr. Caske," and Mr. Durnford looked the brewer intently in the face. "Ah," said Mr. Caske, somewhat uneasily, "you don't take me, sir. It's not that he spends his money.

The vulgar display of wealth which cheapens our life so much, the desire to seek social distinction by a scale of expenditure which in itself gives no joy, have in our time accentuated the longing for wealth out of all proportion. This is true of every layer of society. The clerk's wife spends for her frocks just as absurdly large a part of his income as the banker's wife.

I suppose that those sections which are empty of an individual and his atmosphere represent the intervals between his lives which he spends in sleep, or in states of existence with which this world is not concerned, but of such gulfs of oblivion and states of being I know nothing.

"Only since last night, sir," replied the butler, "but the circumstances are queer. He dined out with some City gentlemen, somewhere, last night, and he came home about ten o'clock. He wasn't in the house long. He went into his laboratory he spends a lot of time in experimenting in chemistry, you know, sir and he called me in there. 'I'm going out again for an hour, Grayson, he says.

Came down to a cheap hotel, and he's there now. He plays the bucket shops with every dollar he can get, hoping the tide will turn. I don't think he eats enough to keep a sparrow alive. The only thing that keeps him from drinking is that he spends all the money he can get gambling." "How does he get money?" "Why, he he he gets it somehow I don't know just exactly how."

Colonel Joseph Woods spends an hour in conference with Peyton and Father Francois. Their plans are all finished. Judge Davis, who is paralyzed by the vehemence of California character, caresses his educated whiskers. He pets his eye-glasses, while the three gentlemen confer. He is essentially a man of peace.

A man spends his whole life rushing from Paris to Versailles, from Versailles to Paris, from town to country, from country to town, from one district of the town to another; but he would not know what to do with his time if he had not discovered this way of wasting it, by leaving his business on purpose to find something to do in coming back to it; he thinks he is saving the time he spends, which would otherwise be unoccupied; or maybe he rushes for the sake of rushing, and travels post in order to return in the same fashion.

There is baseball on the smooth pavement, or if one has a piece of chalk, he can lay out a kind of hopscotch not stretched out, for there isn't room, but rolled up like a jelly cake. One must hop to the middle and out again. Or perhaps one is an artist and with a crayon he spends his grudge upon an enemy these drawings can be no likeness of a friend. Or love guides the chalky fingers.

But when a fisherman rises wearily from his bunk at three in the morning and spends the bulk of the next eighteen hours hauling four one hundred and fifty foot lines, each weighted with from six to fifteen pounds of lead, he feels that he is entitled to every cent he can secure for his day's labor. The Gower boats got fish. The mustard pot came back next day, paying fifty-five cents.

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