'You two are affinities. Therefore, to you the outward aspect is nothing. Put it like this. Love is a thingummybob who what-d'you-call-its.'
'I'm beginning to see,' said Agravaine.
'What I meant was this. Love is a wizard greater than Merlin. He plays odd tricks with the eyesight.'
'Yes,' said Agravaine.
'Or, put it another way. Love is a sculptor greater than Praxiteles. He takes an unsightly piece of clay and moulds it into a thing divine.'
'I get you,' said Agravaine.
The Wise Man began to warm to his work.
'Or shall we say—'
'I think I must be going,' said Agravaine. 'I promised my wife I would be back early.'
'We might put it—' began the Wise Man perseveringly.