In the evening he came home to a late supper, completely fagged, bringing with him the smell of mortar and of pine shavings.
On the first of each month when his agents turned over the rents to him he was in great spirits.

He would bring home the little canvas sack of coin with him before banking it, and call his son's attention to the amount, never failing to stick a twenty-dollar gold-piece in each eye, monocle fashion, exclaiming, "Good for the masses," a meaningless jest that had been one of the family's household words for years.
His plan of building was peculiar.

His credit was good, and having chosen his lot he would find out from the banks how much they would loan him upon it in case he should become the owner.

If this amount suited him, he would buy the lot, making one large payment outright and giving his note for the balance.

The lot once his, the banks loaned him the desired amount.