Arthur Conan Doyle

Arthur Conan Doyle

Summary

Portrait of Arthur Conan Doyle Arthur Conan Doyle A Duet, with an Occasional Chorus… (1899)

How anything so graceful came to be built by this tasteless and utilitarian nation must remain a marvel to the traveller. The sun was shining upon the gold-work of the roof, and the grand towers sprang up amid the light London haze, like some gorgeous palace in a dream. It was a fit centre for the rule to whose mild sway one-fifth of the human race acquiesces - a rule upheld by so small a force that only the consent of the governed can sustain it.
Frank and Maude stood together looking up at it.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Arthur Conan Doyle Arthur Conan Doyle A Duet, with an Occasional Chorus… (1899)

But to the man who could see, to the man whose own soul had enough of spirituality to respond to hers, and whose eye could appreciate the subtlety of a beauty which is of the mind as well as of the body, there was not in all wide London upon that midsummer day a sweeter girl than Maude Selby, as she sat in her grey merino dress with the London sun tagging her brown curls with that coppery glimmer.
She handed back the ring, and a graver expression passed over her mobile face.
‘I feel as you said in your letter, Frank. There is something tragic in it. It will be with me for ever.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Arthur Conan Doyle Arthur Conan Doyle A Duet, with an Occasional Chorus… (1899)

You imagine me to be a hero, and a genius, and all sorts of things, while I know that I am about as ordinary a young fellow as walks the streets of London, and no more worthy of you than - well, than any one else is.’
She laughed with shining eyes.
‘I like to hear you talk like that,’ said she. ‘That is just what is so beautiful about you.’
It is hopeless to prove that you are not a hero when your disclaimers are themselves taken as a proof of heroism. Frank shrugged his shoulders.
Source: Wikisource

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