His chin too smoothly rounded, at a glance—but when set, looks determined enough.
His whole aspect not altogether unpleasing, though I yearned mightily to see him a few inches taller.
Thus then I took dispassionate regard to, and here as dispassionately set down, my outer being; as to my inner, that shall appear, I hope, as this history progresses.
I was yet engaged on this most critical examination of my person when I was interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the flagged terrace beneath my open window and the voices of my two uncles as they passed slowly to and fro, each word of their conversation very plain to hear upon the warm, still air. Honour should have compelled me to close my ears or the lattice; had I done so, how different might this history have been, how utterly different my career. As it was, attracted by the sound of my own name, I turned from contemplation of my person and, coming to the window, leaned out again.
"Poor Peregrine," said my uncle George for the second time.
"Why the pity, George? Curse and confound it, wherefore the pity? Our youth is a perfect ass, an infernal young fish, a puppy-dog—pah!"
"Aye, but," quoth my uncle George (and I could distinguish the faint jingle of his spurs), "we roasted him devilishly to-night between us, Jervas, and never a word out o' the lad—"
"Egad, Julia did the talking for him—"
"Ha, yes—dooce take me, she did so!" exclaimed uncle George. "What an amazingly magnificent creature she is—"
"And did ye mark our youth's cool insolence, his disdainful airs—the cock of his supercilious nose—curst young puppy!"