All alone; and nobody cared whether he lived or died.
She was now permitted freely to study the face.

The comparisons upon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed with reality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction.
The young male, as she had actually seen him, had been of the sailor type, hard-bitten, primordial, ruthless.

For the face under her gaze she could find but one expression--fine.

The shape of the head, the height and breadth of the brow, the angle of the nose, the cut of the chin and jaws, all were fine, of a type she had never before looked upon closely.
She saw now that it was not a dissipated face; it was as smooth and unlined as polished marble, which at present it resembled.

Still, something had marked the face, something had left an indelible touch.