"Is that not rather a singular place in which to learn such a fact?"
"It is a singular place. It is a very singular place, indeed. But that has nothing to do with the matter. It is as I say. You have a picture, Mr. Lovell, at the Academy?"
"I have."
"It is a portrait."
"Pardon me, it is not a portrait."
"Pardon me, Mr. Lovell, in my turn; it is a portrait. As a portrait, it is a perfect portrait. It is a portrait of my wife."
"Of your wife! You are dreaming!"
"You flatter me, Mr. Lovell. Is it that you suppose I am an imbecile? Are not the features of a wife familiar to a husband? Very good. I am the husband of my wife. Your picture, Mr. Lovell, is a portrait of my wife."
"I cannot but think you have mistaken some other picture for mine. Mine is a simple study of a woman's face. It is called 'A Vision of the Night.'"
"Precisely. And 'A Vision of the Night'--is my wife."