The full passage is:
And then turn over the page with me, and gaze upon the other side of the picture. There are a thousand--ten thousand, maybe--who are the masters of these slaves, who own their toil. They do nothing to earn what they receive, they do not even have to ask for it--it comes to them of itself, their only care is to dispose of it. They live in palaces, they riot in luxury and extravagance--such as no Words can describe, as makes the imagination reel and stagger, makes the soul grow sick and faint. They spend hundreds of dollars for a pair of shoes, a handkerchief, a garter; they spend millions for horses and automobiles and yachts, for palaces and banquets, for little shiny stones with which to deck their bodies. Their life is a contest among themselves for supremacy in ostentation and recklessness, in the destroying of useful and necessary things, in the wasting of the labor and the lives of their fellow creatures, the toil and anguish of the nations, the sweat and tears and blood of the human race!
The rich led irresponsible and extravagant lives, or the rich paid too much money for the goods they bought.
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