He seemed puzzled, awed; there were dark lines under his eyes, his cheeks were pale and his mouth had lost its tendency to smile, its lines were heavy; but, above all, his expression was interrogative.

Finally, he was puzzled.
For an instant, as he looked at him, Olva felt that he could not face him, then with a deliberate summoning of the resources of his temperament he strung himself to whatever the day might bring forth.
"This is awful----" "Yes." "Of course it doesn't matter to you, Dune, as it does to me, but I knew the fellow so awfully well.

It's horrible, horrible.

That he should have died--like that." Olva broke out suddenly.

"After all not such a bad way to die--swift enough.