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As for the Baron, he was tall, wizened, bony-faced after the German fashion, spectacled, and, apparently, about forty-five years of age. Also, he had legs which seemed to begin almost at his chest or, rather, at his chin! Yet, for all his air of peacock-like conceit, his clothes sagged a little, and his face wore a sheepish air which might have passed for profundity.

So there was a good deal of nervousness and talking, and speculating and crowding forward in the waiting line, as the hour for opening the office drew near. At the head of the line, holding a card with certain figures on it, stood Axel Peterson, a bony-faced man with lean, high shoulders, engineer in the flour-mill at Meander.

"Very very bad, sir," replied the invalid, a big bony-faced man, who looked very yellow. "Put out your tongue," said the doctor. Private Sim put out such an enormously long tongue that Bob Roberts gave his trousers a hitch, and made believe to haul it forth by the yard, very much to the ensign's disgust.

In an even smaller fraction, his mind assimilated the picture. The woman was dark-haired, dark-eyed, and muscular. Her mouth was wide and thick-lipped beneath a large nose. The man was leaner and lighter, bony-faced and beady-eyed. The woman said: "Fritz, what " And then he shot them both with gun number two.

The director was a strongly-built, bony-faced, moustached man, with a high, bald forehead, broad-chested, and when he spoke, he did not spare his voice, but always talked as if he were preaching. He was very well satisfied with our school certificates, and made no secret of it. He assured grandmother he would take care of us and deal severely with us.

Several times in the corridor I met the financier and his wife with their bony-faced valet, and, of course, I made myself polite and engaging to Mrs. Blumenfeld.

In this dim twilight Lorand was thinking upon those who had passed away before him. That bony-faced figure, whose death face he was painting, his ordinary physiognomy was terrible enough: those empty eye-sockets, into which he fears to gaze: suppose between these two hollows a third was darkling, the place of the bullet that pierced his forehead!

"Your son has ruined our Vasya," a woman sitting beside her said quietly. "You keep still, Natalya!" Sizov chided her angrily. Nilovna looked at the woman; it was the mother of Samoylov. Farther along sat her husband bald-headed, bony-faced, dapper, with a large, bushy, reddish beard which trembled as he sat looking in front of himself, his eyes screwed up.

The bony-faced young man looking out at her wore the lusterless black uniform of a U-League Junior Scientist. His expression was worried. He said, "I believe there is, Miss Farn." Rak was the group leader of the thirty-four Junior Scientists the League had installed in the Project. Like all the Juniors, he took his duties very seriously.

But, on the sofa, near Sophia Antonovna, a bony-faced man with a goatee beard leaned forward with his hands on his knees, staring hard with a kindly expression. In a remote corner a broad, pale face and a bulky shape could be made out, uncouth, and as if insecure on the low seat on which it rested.