1 My eyes have been trained to examine faces and not their trimmings.
The Hound of the Baskervilles By Arthur Conan DoyleContextHighlight In Chapter 13. Fixing the Nets 2 Sir Henry had flung it open, and the cold night wind beat in upon our faces.
The Hound of the Baskervilles By Arthur Conan DoyleContextHighlight In Chapter 9. The Light upon the Moor [Second Report of Dr. ... 3 The law is upon his side, and every day I am faced by the possibility that he may force me to live with him.
The Hound of the Baskervilles By Arthur Conan DoyleContextHighlight In Chapter 11. The Man on the Tor 4 Instead we were faced by an object so strange and so unexpected that we stood for a moment staring at it in amazement.
The Hound of the Baskervilles By Arthur Conan DoyleContextHighlight In Chapter 14. The Hound of the Baskervilles 5 "It's all these goings-on, sir," he cried at last, waving his hand towards the rain-lashed window which faced the moor.
The Hound of the Baskervilles By Arthur Conan DoyleContextHighlight In Chapter 10. Extract from the Diary of Dr. Watson 6 The lodge was a ruin of black granite and bared ribs of rafters, but facing it was a new building, half constructed, the first fruit of Sir Charles's South African gold.
The Hound of the Baskervilles By Arthur Conan DoyleContextHighlight In Chapter 6. Baskerville Hall 7 My nerves thrilled with anticipation when at last the cold wind upon our faces and the dark, void spaces on either side of the narrow road told me that we were back upon the moor once again.
The Hound of the Baskervilles By Arthur Conan DoyleContextHighlight In Chapter 14. The Hound of the Baskervilles 8 The house is banked in with rolling clouds, which rise now and then to show the dreary curves of the moor, with thin, silver veins upon the sides of the hills, and the distant boulders gleaming where the light strikes upon their wet faces.
The Hound of the Baskervilles By Arthur Conan DoyleContextHighlight In Chapter 10. Extract from the Diary of Dr. Watson 9 Rank reeds and lush, slimy water-plants sent an odour of decay and a heavy miasmatic vapour onto our faces, while a false step plunged us more than once thigh-deep into the dark, quivering mire, which shook for yards in soft undulations around our feet.
The Hound of the Baskervilles By Arthur Conan DoyleContextHighlight In Chapter 14. The Hound of the Baskervilles