Mikhail Bulgakov. The Master and Margarita

At the sunset hour of one warm spring day two men were to be seen at
Patriarch's Ponds. The first of them--aged about forty, dressed in a greyish
summer suit--was short, dark-haired, well-fed and bald. He carried his
decorous pork-pie hat by the brim and his neatly shaven face was embellished
by black hornrimmed spectacles of preternatural dimensions. The other, a
broad-shouldered young man with curly reddish hair and a check cap pushed
back to the nape of his neck, was wearing a tartan shirt, chewed white
trousers and black sneakers.