'I must get his address for Henry. Yes,
it was brave of you. What made you do it, William?'
He avoided my eye and looked embarrassed. 'I had an object, of course.
Didn't I explain the other evening----'
'I remember. You did say something about a man not getting into a
groove.' I smiled, feeling slightly self-conscious for a moment. 'And
how do you feel now you're entirely metamorphosed?'
'Entirely metamorphosed, am I?' he said rather bitterly, 'Just on
account of a change of raiment. Yet Dr. Johnson said, "Fine clothes
are good only as they supply the want of other means of procuring
respect."'
'Oh, I always respected you, William,' I put in hastily, 'And don't
quote Dr. Johnson now. It doesn't go with your tie.'
He groaned. 'Must I change my expressions, my thoughts, my very mode
of living to match the garments I wear?'
'I'm afraid you must. But tell me,' I added, looking earnestly into
his face, 'doesn't this outward change affect you inwardly as
well--just a little? You _must_ be feeling more--what shall I
say--sprightly than before?'
He looked down at me as if puzzled, and then said in a half shame-faced
way, 'Mrs. Warrington, there is some truth in that remark of yours.
Some subtle, inexplicable change that I cannot account for has come
over me. Even as Samson's strength lay in his hair, do you think my
reason lay in my beard?'
'It depends on the quality of the reason.
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