Poetic Prose: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

The Return of Sherlock Holmes

“And yet as we saw it that autumn morning it was not the beauty which would be the first thing to impress the observer. The cheek was lovely, but it was paled with emotion; the eyes were bright, but it was the brightness of fever; the sensitive mouth was tight and drawn in an effort after self-command. Terror — not beauty — was what sprang first to the eye as our fair visitor stood framed for an instant in the open door.”

(From “The Second Stain.”)

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