Vane rose and went to the looking-glass, stared at his lips, made a grimace and returned.
“I say, uncle, do I look so very horrid?” he said.
“That eye’s not ornamental, my boy.”
“No, but shall you mind very much?”
“I? Not at all.”
“Then I shall come back with you.”
“Won’t be ashamed to be seen?”
“Not I,” said Vane; “I don’t care, and I should like to be at home when Mr Deering comes.”
“Why?”
“He may be able to get me engaged somewhere in town.”