“Certainly.”
“You find her beautiful?”
“Very beautiful.”
“More beautiful than other women?”
As he had peopled his darkness with beauty my optimist replied:
“I do not say that, for all women are beautiful. But she is better, yes, better than most of them, and it is that which, in my sight, constitutes the purest beauty.”
“What makes you think she is better than the others?”
“Oh, everything. Her whole life, her whole manner of existence as regards me.”
And in words so convincing that for a moment I felt that he could see, he added:
“Just look at her, my good lady. Isn’t it a fact that goodness is written on her face?”