Chepstow--with unprejudiced eyes, mind you--to see that she could never
be one of them. Even if I had never spoken to her, I should know that
she must have ideals, could never not have them, whatever her life is,
or has been. Physiognomy cannot utterly lie. Look at the line of that
face. Don't you see what I mean?"

They both gazed for a moment at the lonely woman.

"There is, of course, a certain beauty in Mrs. Chepstow's face," the
Doctor said.

"I am not speaking of beauty; I am speaking of ideality, of purity.
Don't you see what I mean? Now, be honest."

"Yes, I do."

"Ah!" said Armine.

The exclamation sounded warmly pleased.

"But that look, I think, is a question merely of line, and of the way
the hair grows. Do you mean to say that you would rather judge a woman
by that than by the actions of her life?"

"No. But I do say that if you examined the life of a woman with a face
like that--the real life--you would be certain to find that it had not
been devoid of actions such as you would expect, actions illustrating
that look of ideality which any one can see. What does Mrs. Derringham
really know of Mrs. Chepstow? She is not personally acquainted with her,
even. She acknowledged that. She has never spoken to her, and doesn't