"Does one make a present," she asked, "of an object that contains, to one's knowledge, a flaw?"
"Well, if one knows of it one has only to mention it. The good faith," the man smiled, "is always there."
"And leave the person to whom one gives the thing, you mean, to discover it?"
"He wouldn't discover it—if you're speaking of a gentleman."
"I'm not speaking of anyone in particular," Charlotte said.
"Well, whoever it might be. He might know—and he might try. But he wouldn't find."
She kept her eyes on him as if, though unsatisfied, mystified, she yet had a fancy for the bowl. "Not even if the thing should come to pieces?" And then as he was silent: "Not even if he should have to say to me 'The Golden Bowl is broken'?"
He was still silent; after which he had his strangest smile. "Ah, if anyone should WANT to smash it—!"
She laughed; she almost admired the little man's expression. "You mean one could smash it with a hammer?"
"Yes; if nothing else would do. Or perhaps even by dashing it with violence—say upon a marble floor."