He was now a gray-haired man, though still in the prime of life.
A small gray-haired old man was sitting in the center of our newspapers.
She turned away once more, but it was the voice of the gray-haired man that stopped her.
The gray-haired man simply held up a hand, and he stopped.
The gray-haired man seemed to know what it was all about.
The gray-haired man turned his head to see what the girl was doing.
The gray-haired man spread his hands as if to say nothing was ever certain.
The gray-haired man had taken his chair beyond the table.
Moments later they were back, along with the gray-haired man.
It was the gray-haired man who had been sitting next to him.
