It was not necessary to pry into them--it might even be unkindness.

The picture, which no man save himself had ever seen, was the only possible link between the past and the present--between Scarlett Trent and his drunken old partner, starved and fever-stricken, making their desperate effort for wealth in unknown Africa, and the millionaire of to-day.

The picture remained his dearest possession--but, save his own, no other eyes had ever beheld it.
He dressed with more care than usual, and much less satisfaction.

He was a man who rather prided himself upon neglecting his appearance, and, so far as the cut and pattern of his clothes went, he usually suggested the artisan out for a holiday.

To-day for the first time he regarded his toilet with critical and disparaging eyes.