But his idea of luxury is sitting down in the kitchen to a real meal of beans and biscuits and all the known varieties of jam and those horrible whitewashed store cookies and having the noise of the phonograph drowned every five minutes by a passing street car.
Casey wants four movies a day, and he wants them all funny.

He brings home silk shirts with the stripes fairly shrieking when he unwraps them--and he has to be thrown and tied to get a collar on him.
"He will get up at any hour of the night to chase after a fire engine, and every whipstitch he gets pinched for doing something which is perfectly lawful and right in the desert and perfectly awful in the city.

You saw him," said the Little Woman, "to-day." And she added wistfully, "It's the first time since we were married that he has ever talked back--to me.
"And you know," she went on, shuffling the cards and stopping to regard the joker attentively (though I am sure she didn't know what card she was looking at), "just chasing around town and doing nothing but square yourself for not playing according to the rules costs money without getting you anywhere.

Fifty-five thousand dollars isn't so much just to play with, in this town.

Casey's highest ambition now seems to be nickel disk wheels on a new racing car that can make the speed cops go some to catch him.