He looked something like--something like--oh, who?
Fritzie Schmitt, whom he used to know in Bridgeboro.

No, he didn't--not so much.
But his blond hair and blue eyes did not escape Mr.Conne.
Nothing.
"Watching, Tommy ?" "Yes, sir." A hundred more, two hundred, and then a young sergeant with glasses.
While this young man was undergoing his ordeal (whatever it was, for Tom kept his eyes riveted on the gangway), there appeared the tall figure of a lieutenant.

Tom thought he was of the medical corps, but he was not certain.

He seemed to be looking down at Mr.Conne's little group, with a fierce, piercing stare.

He wore horned spectacles of goodly circumference and as Tom's eyes followed the thick, left wing of these, he saw that it embraced an ear which stood out prominently.