Whatever he was going to make of himself it wouldn't be someone who had to sit down indoors.

He would be slave to no linotype until they were kept in the open.

He told Sam Pickering this in so many words.
The former Mansion's stable at length engaged his wandering fancy.

The stable's old swinging sign--a carefully painted fop with flowing side whiskers and yellow topcoat swiftly driving a spirited horse to a neat red-wheeled run-about--had been replaced by First-Class Garage.

Of its former activities remained only three or four sedate horses to be driven by conservatives; and Starling Tucker, who lived, but lived in the past, dazed and unbelieving--becoming vivacious only in speech, beginning, "I remember when--" These memories dealt with a remote time, when a hawse was a hawse, and you couldn't have it put all over you by a lot of slick young smarties that could do a few things with a monkey wrench.