"Outreau did, and I of course immediately recognised it. Don't you? She
brings the old boy to life! It's just as I should call you a Titian. You
bring _him_ to life."

She couldn't be said to relax, because she couldn't be said to have
hardened; but something at any rate on this took place in her--something
indeed quite disconnected from what I would have called her. "Don't you
understand that she has always been supposed--?" It had the ring of
impatience; nevertheless it stopped short on a scruple.

I knew what it was, however, well enough to say it for her if she
preferred. "To be nothing whatever to look at? To be unfortunately
plain--or even if you like repulsively ugly? Oh yes, I understand it
perfectly, just as I understand--I have to as a part of my trade--many
other forms of stupidity. It's nothing new to one that ninety-nine
people out of a hundred have no eyes, no sense, no taste. There are
whole communities impenetrably sealed. I don't say your friend's a
person to make the men turn round in Regent Street. But it adds to the
joy of the few who do see that they have it so much to themselves. Where
in the world can she have lived? You must tell me all about that--or
rather, if she'll be so good, _she_ must."

"You mean then to speak to her--?"

I wondered as she pulled up again. "Of her beauty?"

"Her beauty!" cried Lady Beldonald so loud that two or three persons
looked round.