She even seemed (but that’s impossible, I thought) taller than before. And as my lie died unspoken she looked at me with something like mockery in her face. Her mocking looks had always been some of her loveliest. …She would not answer me. Her face flushed. Her face, and her whole body, were the answer.
Till We Have Faces: A Myth Retold by C.S. Lewis.
Copious Flowers 