She told me of your two chief faults, your vanity, and your being, as she termed it, "all wrong about money." I have a distinct recollection of how I laughed.

I had no idea that the first would bring me to prison and the second to bankruptcy.

I thought vanity a sort of graceful flower for a young man to wear, as for extravagance--the virtues of prudence and thrift were not in my own nature or my own race.

But before our friendship was one month older I began to see what your mother really meant.

Your insistence on a life of reckless profusion: your incessant demands for money: your claim that all your pleasures should be paid for by me, whether I was with you or not, brought me, after some time, into serious monetary difficulties, and what made the extravagance to me, at any rate, so monotonously uninteresting, as your persistent grasp on my life grew stronger and stronger, was that the money was spent on little more than the pleasures of eating, drinking and the like.