Why, in a month he could own a car like Cliff's.

Why-- Cliff, watching him with sophisticated understanding of the dazzling effect of so much money upon a youth who had probably never before seen fifteen hundred dollars in one lump, smiled to himself.

Whatever small voice of doubt Johnny had hearkened to, the voice would now be hushed under the soft whisper of the money fluttering in Johnny's fingers.
"Well, I'll call a porter to get these things down so you can settle for the room.

You had better just check out without leaving any word of where you're going." Cliff turned to the 'phone.
"That'll be easy, seeing I don't know," Johnny retorted, crowding the money into his old wallet that bulged like the cheeks of a pocket gopher, busy enlarging his house.
"Fine," Cliff flung sardonically over his shoulder.

He called for a porter to remove the luggage from room six-seventy-eight, and laid his fingers around the door knob.