Then she imagined that same face and body in another place.

His heart clenched at the thought of never seeing that fine fragile face again.

And she remembered that old face, the open mouth like a black tunnel into a strange mind.

Thank me not; it is reward enough to have seen that sweet face of yours.

She could mark how the years had treated that strong face.

And now, for the first time since she'd met the man, realized how much she liked that face.

How he hated that small Asian face, those clean good looks.

She stared at it for another few seconds, studying that face.

For me, what makes this image impressive is that face.

"You been through this a hundred times," she told that face.