"Oh, no," he answered, "I've retouched them. They come out splendidly, don't they?"
"Fine," I said, "but surely my eyebrows are not like that?"
"No," said the photographer, with a momentary glance at my face, "the eyebrows are removed. We have a process now—the Delphide—for putting in new ones. You'll notice here where we've applied it to carry the hair away from the brow. I don't like the hair low on the skull."
"Oh, you don't, don't you?" I said.
"No," he went on, "I don't care for it. I like to get the hair clear back to the superficies and make out a new brow line."
"What about the mouth?" I said with a bitterness that was lost on the photographer; "is that mine?"
"It's adjusted a little," he said, "yours is too low. I found I couldn't use it."
"The ears, though," I said, "strike me as a good likeness; they're just like mine."
"Is it me?"