He was down there from nine in the morning until four in the afternoon the day before he died--over eighty! Gilt edge, that bank?
It was diamond edge! He used to eat a bag o' peanuts and an apple for lunch; but he wasn't stingy--he was just livin' in his business.

He didn't care for pie or automobiles--he had his bank.

It was an institution, and it come pretty near bein' the beatin' heart o' this town in its time.

Well, that ole man used to pass one o' these here turned-up-nose and turned-up-pants cigarette boys on the streets.

Never spoke to him, Tracy didn't.