This was not just to them, nor to himself.

But he, who for the first time was becoming conscious of himself, was in no condition to judge, and he burned with shame as he stared at the vision of his infamy.
He got up abruptly and tried to see himself in the dirty looking-glass over the wash-stand.

He passed a towel over it and looked again, long and carefully.

It was the first time he had ever really seen himself.
His eyes were made for seeing, but up to that moment they had been filled with the ever changing panorama of the world, at which he had been too busy gazing, ever to gaze at himself.

He saw the head and face of a young fellow of twenty, but, being unused to such appraisement, he did not know how to value it.