我记得她曾带我去见一个面目狰狞的红脸膛老绅士，身上挂满了勋章和绶带。

I remember her bringing me up to a truculent and red-faced old gentleman covered all over with orders and ribbons.

他长着一副微黑透红的脸膛，高高的个儿，站在那儿，象秋天田野里一株红高梁那样淳朴可爱。

He had a dark, ruby face, tall, and looked like red sorghum stalks in the autumn fields.

他们那丑陋的宽脸膛，亲切地看着阳光中书写的我，他们的呼吸在山丘下是那么的安静。

Their broad, ugly, kindly faces watch in the sunlight as I write, and their breathing is quiet under the hill.

他们对自己的马吆喝了两声，然后默无言语地骑着向前跑了一阵，这时斯图尔特褐色的脸膛上泛起了一抹红晕。

They clucked to their horses and rode along in silence for a while, a flush of embarrassment on Stuart's brown cheeks.

他的脸膛是红褐色的，粗糙到了极点。满脸都是皱纹，一边脑帮上挂著九根灰毛，上面是个粉扑扑的大秃顶。

His face has the colour of mahogany, rough and rugged to the last degree, all lines and wrinkles, nine grey hairs of a side, and nothing but a dab of powder at top.