“I don’t know,” said Vincent, who was very bored. “Dare say it’s all right.”
“I wonder,” remarked Wynne, “if you can detect the fault in that picture.”
Mr. and Mrs. Johns half closed their eyes, by which means they fondly believed faults were more easily detected. After much consideration they produced the joint statement that it looked “a little funny—I don’t know!”
“The fault lies in the fact that there are no faults—which, to my way of thinking, is very heinous.”
“That sounds nonsense to me,” said Mr. Johns, who was getting heartily sick of the whole exposition.
“Not at all. There must be impurity to emphasize purity. Where would the Church be were it not for sinners? What would be the worth of virtue if there were no vice? Therefore I contend that nothing is so imperfect as perfection.”
Carried away by his own arguments, Wynne hurried his charges along to Leonardo’s “Baptist.”
Here he drew breath and started to speak afresh.
“An amazingly happy performance—instinct with life, saturated with humour. You notice the same classic tendency towards sexlessness? In my opinion this is all a painting should be. There is something astonishingly compelling in every line of the form and features.”
“She is certainly very pleasant-looking,” said Mrs. Johns. “Who was the young lady?”