“Wine and woman. You would last perhaps five years. You would die a dipsomaniac at thirty or thereabout. The chief folly of fighting booze when you are rich is that it renders wealth utterly futile.” “How?” “Well, you can get just as drunk on ten dollars a day as you can on one thousand dollars--with this difference, that in the one case you would have to get drunk on whisky by yourself and in the other you might get drunk on vintage champagne in the company of paid parasites. The morning after is the same in both cases: you don't remember any more of the ten-dollar jag than of the thousand-dollar orgy! When a drunkard sets out to squander a million all he really does is to carry a sign on his back with letters a mile high--the sign reading, 'I am a d------d fool!”' Frank took it good-naturedly because he liked Jemingham and because he was not a millionaire. It really would be asinine to be a millionaire and try to drink all there was; so he said, amiably: “Having downed the Demon Rum, then what?” “I'll put it up to you this way: I have no family and I may never marry. I certainly won't if I don't find my first and only sweetheart. Suppose I felt like leaving you some of my money? You are a nice boy, but you also have been a D. F., and you must admit that no man likes to see his friend trying to beat all D. F. records. Don't get mad and don't look indignant! I want to make a proposition to you: I'll agree to deposit to your account in a trust company one hundred dollars a day for every day you don't touch a drop! I don't want to reform you. I merely want to train you--in case! There will be some times when you will forfeit that. It will amount to paying one hundred dollars for a Martini. It will become a luxury.” “Too expensive for me!” said Frank, seriously. “And, my boy, it is more than being on the water-wagon--it's being able to stay on! Booze is so foolish! I want to give you some business matters--for you to handle for me.” “You know what I know about business--” “Can't you do as you are told? Don't you know enough to look clever and say, 'Sign here!' in a frozen voice?” “Oh yes. But--” “I know you will miss your evenings at first. But I'll tell you what to do. I am no killjoy. Well, you spend as many evenings as you wish with me. Invite as many friends as you please--sex no bar. Will you?” “Jemingham, you are a nice chap. I'll do it. But you must not think of that one hundred dollars--” “Tut-tut! Can't you understand that I want to do it--that I love to see your bank account grow? Run along now. I want to read Lucretius.”