His
irreproachable trousers were correctly creased--not too marked to be
ostentatious, but just a graceful fold emerging, as it were, out of the
texture, even as the faint line of dawn strikes across the darkened sky.
But it was his head that attracted me most. There was no denying
it--shorn of his overgrowth of whiskers and put into a correct setting,
William was handsome; even more than that, he was interesting. He had
that firm, chiselled kind of mouth which women and artists find so
attractive, and a delightful cleft in his chin; his hair, which had
hitherto always struck me as being so unkempt and disordered, now that
it was brushed smoothly back from his brow and curled into the nape of
his neck gave him a distinguished appearance. I directed one long look
at him and then instinctively dived to the mirror.
'Oh, William,' I gasped, 'is it possible?'
'Is what possible?' he inquired.
'Why just think of it,' I replied, groping in my pocket for my powder
puff. '_You're a man!_'
'What else should I be?' he asked, apparently mystified.
'You used to be--just William. But now,' I sidled up to him, 'you've
changed amazingly.'
'Yes, I know that,' he growled with some of his former gruffness of
manner. 'Can you imagine what a tremendous amount of determination and
will power I required to get myself up like this?'
'And a good tailor as well--don't forget that,' I added, running an
appraising eye over his form.
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