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Updated: May 2, 2025
In a chair beside the desk sat a tall, lean-faced man, with a nose that suggested an eagle's beak, with its high, thin, arched bridge, little, narrowed, shifting eyes, and a hard mouth whose lips were partly concealed under a drooping, tobacco-stained mustache. He turned as the three men entered, leaning back in his chair, his legs a-sprawl, motioning them to the chairs and the bench.
She shivered. A grocer next to the hotel was adjusting a swinging shelf affixed to the store-front, preparatory to piling his wares upon it; a lean-faced man standing in a doorway in the building adjoining the grocery was inspecting a six-shooter that he had removed from the holster at his side. Rosalind shivered again. Civilization and outlawry were strangely mingled here.
They were men of one stamp; no distinction of uniform could obscure their relationship lean-faced men, hard as iron, rugged in feature, thin-lipped, with firm chins and straight, level mouths, narrow foreheads, and the steel-blue inexpressive eyes; men of courage and resolution, no doubt, but without subtleties, or nerves, or that burdensome gift of imagination; sturdy men, a little wanting in delicacy, hardly conspicuous for intellect; to put it frankly, men rather stupid all of them, in a word, first-class fighting men, but not one of them a first-class soldier.
Remember, I'll be looking till you find your sister smiled into his eyes. They filed out, and he affected to take no notice of her. A lean-faced, rather commonplace woman recognized Carrie on the platform and hurried forward. "Why, Sister Carrie!" she began, and there was a perfunctory embrace of welcome. Carrie realized the change of affect ional atmosphere at once.
"Good-bye," she answered, taking his proffered hand. "Remember, I'll be looking till you find your sister." She smiled into his eyes. They filed out, and he affected to take no notice of her. A lean-faced, rather commonplace woman recognised Carrie on the platform and hurried forward. "Why, Sister Carrie!" she began, and there was embrace of welcome.
Silverthorn saw a lean-faced, broad-shouldered young man with a strong chin, a firm mouth, and an eye that fixed him with a steady, unwavering interest. By the gleam in Sanderson's eyes Silverthorn divined that he was in the presence of a strong, opposing force, and he drew a slow, deep breath. "Well?" he said, again. "You're Dave Silverthorn?" The other nodded.
Yes, the war meant that to us surely, we were fast raking in most of the gold that Europe has been forced to throw on the table of international finance, the savings, the dots, the stakes of her next generation. The number of lean-faced American business men, war brokers, on the steamer was plain evidence of that.
A lean-faced old man the Sheik was, heavily bearded with white, his brows snowy, his eyes a hawk's, and the fine aquilinity of his nose the hallmark of pure Arab blood. Hard as iron he looked, gravely observing, unabashed in face of these white strangers and of this mysterious flying house.
A whistle blew shrilly, other uniforms came running, more whistles piped, and almost before he realized it he found himself in the centre of a pack of lean-faced brown men who were struggling to pull him down and striking at him with their clubs. With a sudden wild thrill he realized that this was no ordinary street fight; this was deadly; he must beat off these fellows or be killed.
Just at the entrance to the olive-groves, which extend for six miles out of Beyrout, I saw a dead child lying by the roadside, and from that point the journey became a succession of heartrending sights. Gaunt, lean-faced men, women thin to the point of emaciation, and children whose wizened faces made them look like old men, lined the route weeping for joy at their deliverance.
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