When this lad returned after the dinner hour, Walter left him in charge, and took himself into the streets, pursued by that vague restlessness he could neither understand nor shake off.  Looking in at the mirrored window of a great shop in St. Vincent Street, he saw the image of himself reflected, a tall, lean figure, shabbily clad—­an image which filled him with a sudden loathing and contempt.  He stood quite still, and calmly appraised himself, taking in every meagre detail of his appearance, noting the grimy hue of the collar he had worn three days, the glazed front of the frayed black tie, the soft, greasy rim of the old hat.  Yes, he told himself, he was a most disreputable-looking object, with nothing in his appearance to suggest prosperity, or even decent comfort.  A grim humour smote him suddenly, and thrusting his hand into his pocket, he brought it out full of money, and rapidly counted it.  Then he opened the door of the fashionable tailor’s, and walked in.  He was regarded, as was to be expected, a trifle superciliously by the immaculately-attired young gentlemen therein.

‘I want a suit of clothes,’ he said in his straight, abrupt fashion,—­’a good suit; the best you have in your shop.’

The young gentlemen regarded him and each other with such significance in their glances that their shabby-looking customer turned on his heel.

‘I can be served elsewhere, I guess, without so much hesitation,’ he said, and in an instant he was intercepted with profuse apologies, and patterns of the best materials in the shop laid before him.

‘I’ll take this,’ said Walter, after refusing several.

’It is very expensive, sir—­beautiful material, but a suit made to measure will be five guineas,’ said the young gentleman suggestively.

‘I’ll take it,’ said Walter calmly.  ’And I want an overcoat, and a hat, and some other things.  Show me what you have.’

The fascination of choosing new garments for personal wear was upon Walter Hepburn, and he spent a whole hour in the shop, selecting an outfit which did credit to his taste and discernment.  Before that hour was over he had risen very considerably in the opinion of those who served him—­his choice invariably falling on what was not only most expensive, but in the best taste.

’Now, how much is to pay?  I’ll pay ready money to-day, and send for the things when they are ready, which I hope will be soon.’

‘Very well, sir; but there is no hurry, I assure you,’ said the young gentleman suavely.  ‘Payment on delivery is always quite satisfactory.’

‘I’ll pay to-day,’ Walter replied, with his hand in his pocket; and when the bill was presented he ran his eye over it without a change of face.

‘Twelve pounds eight shillings and twopence,’ he said slowly, and counted out the bank notes carelessly, as if the handling of them was his daily work.  Then, having made arrangements for fitting, he went his way, leaving a very odd impression on the minds of the shop people.  Had he heard their surmises and comments, he would have felt at once amused and chagrined.