If you go to her with that scratched face, we are lost.

Come, get into my carriage, and home with me." "Mayn't I wash my face first?
And look at my shirt: as black as a cinder." "Wash your face, by all means: but you can button your coat over your shirt." The coat was soon brought, and so was a pail of water and a piece of yellow soap.

Little dashed his head and face into the bucket, and soon inked all the water.

The explosion had filled his hair with black dust, and grimed his face and neck like a sweep's.

This ablution made him clean, but did not bring back his ruddy color.