It was a nose never to compromise with Time.
Dave Cowan, at first glance, was much the same, even after he had concealed beneath the table that half of him which was never quite so scrupulously arrayed as the other.

But a second glance revealed that the yellow hair was less abundant.

It was now cunningly conserved from ear to ear, above a forehead that had heightened.

The face was thinner, and etched with new lines about the orator's mouth, but the eyes shone with the same light as of old and the same willingness to shed its beams through shadowed places such as first national banks.

He no longer accepted the cigar, to preserve in the upper left-hand waist coat pocket with the fountain pen, the pencil, and the toothbrush.