He pulled himself up, and trailing the blanket behind him, made his way somewhat unsteadily across the room and up the back stairs.
Behind the door of his room hung the pride of his soul, a new suit of clothes, whole, patchless, clean, which the judge had bought him two days before.

He had sat before it in speechless admiration; he had hung it in every possible light to get the full benefit of its beauty; he had even in the night placed it on a chair beside the bed, so that he could put out his hand in the dark and make sure it was there.

For it was the first new suit of clothes that he remembered ever to have possessed.

He had not intended to wear it until Sunday, but the psychological moment had arrived.
With trembling fingers and many pauses for rest, he made his toilet.
He looked in the mirror, and his heart nearly burst with pride.

The suit, to be sure, hung limp on his gaunt frame, and his shaven head gave him the appearance of a shorn lamb, but to Sandy the reflection was eminently satisfying.