He had often seen his own reflection and was familiar with his own appearance, but this was the first time that he had looked at himself impersonally.

The sketch was vivid, the likeness excellent; the motive, the picturesque and romantic.
A proud lift of the chin, an eager glance in the eye, a sensitive curve of the lip attracted his boyish egotism.

The portrait was an ideal, something to live up to.

Involuntarily he composed his features.
Barney Bill again called time.

Paul surrendered the sketch-book reluctantly.