Joe could stand more hard labour in one consecutive day and night than any fellow I ever met.

And he could do it night after night.

I remember dropping in on him for coffee and rolls one morning.

A chap named Crothers and myself--" Ethel started at the name--"had just come home from the 'Quatres Arts Ball.' We found Joe in his room with the curtains drawn--he didn't know it was morning yet.
He had a towel bound round his head and was building an opera house for Chicago--or Kansas City--I'm not sure which.

And he wasn't just dreaming of building it in his successful middle age--he was building it now, in a terrible rush, as though Kansas City were pushing him hard.
Joe didn't live in the future, you see--he took the future and made it the present, and then lived in the present like mad." Dwight tossed away his cigarette.
"But you say it's money now." "Yes," she replied.