A few months had changed his life in the most amazing way--when he looked back upon it now it was with a sense of unreality--surely all these things which had happened were part of a chimerical dream.

It was barely possible for him to believe that it was he, Scarlett Trent, who had developed day by day into what he was at that moment.

For the man was changed in a hundred ways.

His grey flannel clothes was cut by the Saville Row tailor of the moment, his hands and hair, his manner of speech and carriage were all altered.

He recalled the men he had met, the clubs he had joined, his stud of horses at Newmarket, the country-houses at which he had visited.