He disliked graveyards on principle, and he wished his reward.
Wilbur Cowan kept his quick way down Fair Street.

He had been lifted to pecuniary eminence, and incessantly the new wealth pressed upon his consciousness.

The markets of the world were at his mercy.

There were shop windows outside which he had long been compelled to linger in sterile choosing.

Now he could enter and buy, and he was in a hurry to be at it.