This was precisely what I feared.

I am a man who always looks like a boy.

There are few persons of my age in London who retain their boyish appearance as long as I have done; indeed, this is the curse of my life.

Though I am approaching the age of thirty, I pass for twenty; and I have observed old gentlemen frown at my precocity when I said a good thing or helped myself to a second glass of wine.

There was, therefore, nothing surprising in Scudamour's remark, that, when he had the pleasure of meeting Henry, Henry must have been about the age that I had now reached.