The fog-crystals clung to her hair, I remember, and a silvery film of fog lay on her garments.
I had never before thought of her as beautiful.

Strange, uncanny, wonderful, if you like, but the word beauty had too kindly and human a sound for such a face.

But as she stood with heightened colour, her eyes like stars, her poise like a wild bird's, I had to confess that she had her own loveliness.

She might be a devil, but she was also a queen.

I considered that there might be merits in the prospect of riding by her side into Jerusalem.
Sandy stood rigid, his face very grave and set.