In mode of living, as well as in personal appearance, it was the greatest metamorphosis that had ever taken place in a human being in the memory of man.  It was a miniature “Log Cabin to White House” episode.  He furnished his castle with the most elaborate fittings and ornaments that the world could produce.  He had steam heated rooms and electric lighting from cellar to attic.  Every floor was carpeted with the most expensive of imported Brussels.  The walls were most elaborately painted and decorated.  To secure a final footing in society he had acquired a collection of obsolete paintings, which were very unattractive and vulgar, and could only have been of value as heirlooms to some private family.  These were conspicuously displayed on the panelled walls, in partnership with other more or less modest busts and imaginary landscapes.  His ceilings were frescoed and figured in most extravagant, but unappealing designs.  It was plainly seen that the building had been erected more to satisfy the taste and please the eye of the architect, who had received an unrestricted contract, than for acceptance by the purchaser.  The furnishings were very much in keeping with the fixtures and fittings, and his musical instruments were all electrically-automatic machines; and his “canned” music filled the halls and stairways from morning till night.  There was no modern convenience or indulgence that he did not lasso and drag home to his castle.

Before, he had wallowed in the one extreme of society, but now he lolled at the other.  While before he had been neglected and despised by his fellow rivals, he was now courted, and admired, and feasted almost to death:  so much does the possession of the coin-asset change people’s opinions with regard to others.

His auto was the envy of all the chauffeurs and private car owners in the interior, and there was great rivalry among the licensed drivers as to who should secure the position as his private chauffeur.  One engineer offered his services gratis to have the privilege of sitting behind such wind-shields.

Hard Times Hance persuaded himself that he had reached his “Utopia,” and that his past forty years of loneliness and savagery was the price he had paid for the present heaven-rivalling blessings.

A man of his standing in society could not long remain in single dormancy; he was therefore besieged by many of the fair sex.  This was very pleasing and flattering to him, although he concealed his appreciation.  Of course a palace such as his, without a wife, was like a garden of Eden without an Eve.  He had no one to use the electric vacuum cleaner on his linoleums and tapestries.  He had no one to meet him when he reached home to take his hat, and gloves, and cane, and place them on the hall rack.  He had no one to kiss and afford companionship throughout the long evenings, no one to arrange for social entertainments and meet and welcome the guests; no one to direct and manage the culinary department, and place the furniture in appetizing arrangement.  Of course he had the Chinese cook, but he was stale and without spice.  There were millions of qualified candidates in the world, looking for partners, who would be more than pleased to have the opportunity to manipulate his vacuum cleaner.