He's going to be rich enough to buy us all out one of these days, and if she'd only ask him to dine now and then I could get almost anything out of him.
The man is mad to know the people who don't want to know him, and when a fellow's in that state there is nothing he won't do for the first woman who takes him up." Lily hesitated a moment.

The first part of her companion's discourse had started an interesting train of thought, which was rudely interrupted by the mention of Mr.Rosedale's name.

She uttered a faint protest.
"But you know Jack did try to take him about, and he was impossible." "Oh, hang it--because he's fat and shiny, and has a sloppy manner! Well, all I can say is that the people who are clever enough to be civil to him now will make a mighty good thing of it.

A few years from now he'll be in it whether we want him or not, and then he won't be giving away a half-a-million tip for a dinner." Lily's mind had reverted from the intrusive personality of Mr.Rosedale to the train of thought set in motion by Trenor's first words.

This vast mysterious Wall Street world of "tips" and "deals"-- might she not find in it the means of escape from her dreary predicament?
She had often heard of women making money in this way through their friends: she had no more notion than most of her sex of the exact nature of the transaction, and its vagueness seemed to diminish its indelicacy.