There's nothing doing in winter up there that requires your personal attention--" "It's a bad winter for the deer--I ought to be there now--" "Well, can't Blake and O'Connor attend to that ?" "Yes, I suppose they can.

But I'm not going to waste the winter and my salary in the semi-tropics just because you want me to--" "O Lord!" said Portlaw, "what are you kicking about?
Have I ever--" "You force me to be plain-spoken; you never seem to understand that if you insist on my playing the wealthy do-nothing that you've got to keep me going.

And I tell you frankly, Billy, I'm tired of it." "Oh, don't flatten your ears and show your teeth," protested Portlaw amiably.

"I only supposed you had enough--with such a salary--to give yourself a little rope on a trip like this, considering you've nobody but yourself to look out for, and that _I_ do that and pay you heavily for the privilege"-- his voice had become a mumble--"and all you do is to take vacations in New York or sit on a horse and watch an army of men plant trout and pheasants, and cut out ripe timber--O hell!" "_What_ did you say ?" Portlaw became good-humouredly matter of fact: "I _said_ 'hell,' Louis--which meant, 'what's the use of squabbling.' It also means that you are going to have what you require as a matter of course; so come on down to my state-room and let us figure it up before Jim Wayward begins to turn restless and limp toward the card-room." As they turned and strolled forward, Malcourt nudged him: "Look at the fireworks over Lake Worth," he said; "probably Palm Beach's welcome to her new and beardless prophet." "It's one of their cheap Venetian fetes," muttered Portlaw.

"I know 'em; they're rather amusing.