Manifest Destiny

Brian is sophisticated and rich in his cravat of mahogany and metallic gold stripes this evening, the latter diagonals resembling strands of tightly wound tinsel.  This is a tie of weskits and pocket watches, of barred teller windows and smiling bank Presidents with mutton-chop whiskers who offer railroad tycoons a fine cigar from the humidor on the desk.  Leather chairs complain loudly as these titans of new industry settle in, and the dollar signs drift and multiply above their heads.