(1/4)
And now a test with more than 500 characters.
To Sherlock Holmes she is always the woman. I have seldom heard him mention her
under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses and predominates the whole of her
sex. It was not that he felt any emotion akin to love for Irene Adler. All
emotions, and that one particularly, were abhorrent to his cold, precise but
admirably balanced mind.
(2/4)
He was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning and
observing machine that the world has seen, but as a lover he would have placed
himself in a false position. He never spoke of the softer passions, save with a
gibe and a sneer. They were admirable things for the observer—excellent for
drawing the veil from men’s motives and actions.
(3/4)
But for the trained reasoner to
admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely adjusted temperament was
to introduce a distracting factor which might throw a doubt upon all his mental
results. Grit in a sensitive instrument, or a crack in one of his own high-power
lenses, would not be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such as
his. And yet there was but one woman to him, and that woman was the late Irene
Adler, of dubious and questionable memory.
Yep, that worked. Praise the mighty LLM!