Marc's face was suffused with colour and he took a violent step forward.

"You'd better let go of my shirt," warned George, his face suffused with color.

Vasilia was on her feet, eyes blazing, face suffused with color.

Her fair skin was suddenly suffused with colour.

'Yes, he was so very sorry,' said Mavis, her face still suffused with colour.

In contrast to her ashen skin her mouth was suffused with color.

And then his face suffused with color.

Max Epstein once made a living as a print maker and painter, creating works suffused with color.

As her cheek was suffused with color, his own turned ruddy with shame.

She drew back quickly, looking up at me, her lovely face suffused with color, eyes shimmering with tears about to fall.

Her face became suffused with colour.

It became suffused with color.

said the Major, his face by this time richly suffused with colour.

Her cheeks were suffused with colour and Felix's voice was very gentle as he said, 'Surely you must have been lonely at times?

Her pale complexion suffused with color.

His face suffused with color, dark and angry at her words, his hands tightening uncontrollably on her shoulders.

_" His face suddenly suffused with color.

Her face was suffused with colour, her gait slightly unsteady--her command of words not quite under her control.

These early and gentle pictures, unlike the later harsh black and white stills from some crude horror film, were suffused with colour and feeling and smell.

Each dreamlike image is suffused with colors that are rich yet subdued, a kind of Chagall-meets-Rothko mash-up that suggests sleepy-time happiness.

As followers of Mr. Pollini's pianism can imagine, this was not a Debussy suffused with color or mist, nor was it haunted by languid melody.

Her face, still beautiful, was particularly seductive for its Creole complexion, the vividness of which can be described only by comparing it to muslin overlying crimson, so equally is the whiteness suffused with color.

His face first turned gray when he saw the crowd of waiting children, then slowly suffused with color as he grasped the meaning of their chatter about the lady whom some called Lukia and others Epona.

The paintings became suffused with color, particularly red, after Mr. Nauman came home from the paint store one day with 30 different shades of red because he understood that red, as Ms. Rothenberg puts it, "is the base note in my whole palette, my whole life."