When he got back to his apartment that night, he went straight to the bathroom and examined himself in the mirror. The spots were gone. Completely. There wasn't a single pimple in sight. The pockmarks remained but even they seemed diminished. In fact, he thought, turning his face this way and that, the better to admire himself, they gave him a rather rugged, dashing air. He stood back to get a more objective view. There was no doubt about it; he was rather good-looking. It became less surprising that the girls had made a point of joining him in the bar.
He mused on the girls.