You can go right on from that, living on me to the tune of forty or fifty thousand, besides what your mother will give you, with a valet and a yacht or a fancy-ranch where you can pretend to raise trotting stock and play cards with your own crowd." "Like Lorry Tuck ?" Harvey put in.
"Yep; or the two De Vitre boys or old man McQuade's son.

California's full of 'em, and here's an Eastern sample while we're talking." A shiny black steam-yacht, with mahogany deck-house, nickel-plated binnacles, and pink-and-white-striped awnings, puffed up the harbour, flying the burgee of some New York club.

Two young men, in what they conceived to be sea costumes, were playing cards by the saloon skylight; and a couple of women with red and blue parasols looked on and laughed noisily.
"Shouldn't care to be caught out in her in any sort of a breeze.

No, beam," said Harvey, critically, as the yacht slowed to pick up her mooring-buoy.
"They're having what stands them for a good time.

I can give you that, and twice as much as that, Harve.