He no longer held his appointment, and had given up his dingy chambers in Lincoln's Inn.

His own work fully occupied him, and thanks to his literary receipts and his mother's generosity, he realised a good income.
To his own regret and to his friends also, he was no longer a member of the Keston menage.

He had outgrown his homely quarters, and now occupied one of the new flats in Cheyne Walk, and lived in quite a palatial fashion, though many a pipe was still smoked in Amias's studio.

Malcolm had emerged from his shell, and mixed freely in society.

His was a name to conjure with, and all the people best worth knowing gathered round him and delighted to do him homage.