In justification of his manner of living there was first, of course, The Meaninglessness of Life. As aides and ministers, pages and squires, butlers and lackeys to this great Khan there were a thousand books glowing on his shelves, there was his apartment and all the money that was to be his when the old man up the river should choke on his last morality. From a world fraught with the menace of debutantes and the stupidity of many Geraldines he was thankfully delivered--rather should he emulate the feline immobility of Maury and wear proudly the culminative wisdom of the numbered generations.