There was neither mockery nor self-pity in Francisco’s face; the fine, sculptured planes and the clear, blue eyes held a quiet composure, the face was open, offered to any blow, unflinching.
Her composure returned, with the faint suggestion of a smile of secret mockery.
He was looking at a blank face that seemed composed, but the composure became disquieting when one noticed that it lasted for minute after minute, with no change of expression, no sign of feeling.
He looked as if his perceptive eyes were studying the men outside this room, the men who were seeing him across the country; one could not tell whether he was listening: no reaction altered the composure of his face.
There are no more uses of "composure" in the book.
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After I regained my composure, I thanked her for telling me about the problem.
During all this time he was evidently struggling for composure.