The Well of Loneliness

He came. Amazing how little he had changed. He was just the same clean-shaven, bony-faced Martin, with the slow blue eyes and the charming expression, and the loose-limbed figure that slouched from much riding; only now there were a few faint lines round his eyes, and the hair had gone snow-white on his temples. Just beside the right temple was a deep little scar -- it must have been a near thing, that bullet.

He said: "My dear, it is good to see you. " And he held Stephen's hand in his own thin brown ones.