Now, Cook is that man who can't tell red from green, isn't he?

He must have been standing there for a long time because his face was red from the wind.

The end of his nose was red from the cold.

She knew her eyes would be red and swollen from the salt water, but it didn't matter.

His cheeks were still red from the bitter cold and the wind outside.

When she straightened up, her face was red, perhaps from the fire.

His eyes were red from the dust and heat of the ride.

Her eyes were red from fatigue and loss of sleep.

He was not a white seal any more, but red from head to tail.

I felt my face going red, and not from the wind.