There was a tiny window at the top, with a man's face framed in it.

He smiled, his face framed with a beard that somehow didn't seem quite so gray, not anymore.

An incredibly worried face framed by blond hair thrust against my nose.

Soft white Madonna's face framed in lovely rings of black hair.

Steadier, she drew back, framed his face with her hands.

A soft, round face, with bright green eyes framed by extremely black hair.

The face so framed was one she knew, but not Airmid's.

The face of a woman, framed by a shawl.

A woman's face, tired and drawn, framed by golden hair, floated into his line of vision.

She reached up, framed his face with her hands.