'Oh, William,' I gasped, 'is it possible?'
'Is what possible?' he inquired.
'Why just think of it,' I replied, groping in my pocket for my powder puff. 'You're a man!'
'What else should I be?' he asked, apparently mystified.
'You used to be—just William. But now,' I sidled up to him, 'you've changed amazingly.'
'Yes, I know that,' he growled with some of his former gruffness of manner. 'Can you imagine what a tremendous amount of determination and will power I required to get myself up like this?'
'And a good tailor as well—don't forget that,' I added, running an appraising eye over his form. 'I must get his address for Henry. Yes, it was brave of you. What made you do it, William?'
He avoided my eye and looked embarrassed. 'I had an object, of course. Didn't I explain the other evening——'
'I remember. You did say something about a man not getting into a groove.' I smiled, feeling slightly self-conscious for a moment. 'And how do you feel now you're entirely metamorphosed?'
'Entirely metamorphosed, am I?' he said rather bitterly, 'Just on account of a change of raiment. Yet Dr. Johnson said, "Fine clothes are good only as they supply the want of other means of procuring respect."'