He was very devoted to both Edith and Bruce, and he was a confidant of both.

He sometimes said to Edith that he felt he was just what was wanted in the little home; an intimate stranger coming in occasionally with a fresh atmosphere was often of great value (as, for instance, now) in calming or averting storms.
Had anyone asked Vincy exactly what he was he would probably have said he was an Observer, and really he did very little else, though after he left Oxford he had taken to writing a little, and painting less.

He was very fair, the fairest person one could imagine over five years old.

He had pale silky hair, a minute fair moustache, very good features, a single eyeglass, and the appearance, always, of having been very recently taken out of a bandbox.
But when people fancied from this look of his that he was an empty-headed fop they soon found themselves immensely mistaken.
He was thirty-eight, but looked a gilded youth of twenty; and _was_ sufficiently gilded (as he said), not perhaps exactly to be comfortable, but to enable him to get about comfortably, and see those who were.
He had a number of relatives in high places, who bored him, and were always trying to get him married.

He had taken up various occupations and travelled a good deal.