“I very much want people to look at them.”
“Why not us, then?” said Wynnie.
“Because you do not need to be pained.”
“Are you sure it is good for you to pain anybody?” I said.
“Good is done by pain—is it not?” he asked.
“Undoubtedly. But whether we are wise enough to know when and where and how much, is the question.”
“Of course I do not make the pain my object.”
“If it comes only as a necessary accompaniment, that may alter the matter greatly,” I said. “But still I am not sure that anything in which the pain predominates can be useful in the best way.”
“Perhaps not,” he returned.—“Will you look at the daub?”
“With much pleasure,” I replied, and we rose and stood before the easel. Percivale made no remark, but left us to find out what the picture meant. Nor had I long to look before I understood it—in a measure at least.