Собака Баскервіллів
The Man on the Tor
Herfacefell,however,whenshesawthatIwasastranger,andshesatdownagainandaskedmetheobjectofmyvisit.
ThefirstimpressionleftbyMrs.Lyonswasoneofextremebeauty. Hereyesandhairwereofthesamerichhazelcolour,andhercheeks,thoughconsiderablyfreckled, wereflushedwiththeexquisitebloomofthebrunette,thedaintypinkwhichlurksattheheartofthesulphurrose. Admirationwas,Irepeat,thefirstimpression. Butthesecondwascriticism. Therewassomethingsubtlywrongwiththeface,somecoarsenessofexpression,somehardness,perhaps,ofeye,someloosenessoflipwhichmarreditsperfectbeauty. Butthese,ofcourse,areafter-thoughts. AtthemomentIwassimplyconsciousthatIwasinthepresenceofaveryhandsomewoman,andthatshewasaskingmethereasonsformyvisit. Ihadnotquiteunderstooduntilthatinstanthowdelicatemymissionwas.
"Ihavethepleasure,"saidI,"ofknowingyourfather. "Itwasaclumsyintroduction,andtheladymademefeelit.
"Thereisnothingincommonbetweenmyfatherandme,"shesaid. "Iowehimnothing,andhisfriendsarenotmine. IfitwerenotforthelateSirCharlesBaskervilleandsomeotherkindheartsImighthavestarvedforallthatmyfathercared."
"ItwasaboutthelateSirCharlesBaskervillethatIhavecomeheretoseeyou."
Thefrecklesstartedoutonthelady’sface.
"WhatcanItellyouabouthim? "sheasked,andherfingersplayednervouslyoverthestopsofhertypewriter.
"Youknewhim,didyounot?"
