“By George, that’s so, that’s so.” He shook his head. “I’ve got to taper off. You’re right, Laura. But you don’t know, you haven’t a guess how this trading in wheat gets a hold of you. And, then, what am I to do? What are we fellows, who have made our money, to do? I’ve got to be busy. I can’t sit down and twiddle my thumbs. And I don’t believe in lounging around clubs, or playing with race horses, or murdering game birds, or running some poor, helpless fox to death. Speculating seems to be about the only game, or the only business that’s left open to me⁠—that appears to be legitimate. I know I’ve gone too far into it, and I promise you I’ll quit. But it’s fine fun. When you know how to swing a deal, and can look ahead, a little further than the other fellows, and can take chances they daren’t, and plan and manoeuvre, and then see it all come out just as you had known it would all along⁠—I tell you it’s absorbing.”