But the arms were sunburned, too.

He twisted his arm, rolled the biceps over with his other hand, and gazed underneath where he was least touched by the sun.

It was very white.

He laughed at his bronzed face in the glass at the thought that it was once as white as the underside of his arm; nor did he dream that in the world there were few pale spirits of women who could boast fairer or smoother skins than he--fairer than where he had escaped the ravages of the sun.
His might have been a cherub's mouth, had not the full, sensuous lips a trick, under stress, of drawing firmly across the teeth.

At times, so tightly did they draw, the mouth became stern and harsh, even ascetic.
They were the lips of a fighter and of a lover.