It might, you know, become defaced any day, and then no one would have seen it but ourselves.

The islanders, you know, do not notice it." "Ah, yes," said Caius; "beauty is made up of two parts--the objects seen and the understanding eye.

We only know how much we are indebted to training and education when we find out to what extent the natural eye is blind." This remark did not seem to interest her.

He felt that it jarred somehow, and that she was wishing him away.
"But why," he asked, "should angels paint a marriage?
They neither marry----" He stopped, feeling that she might think him flippant if he quoted the text.
"Because it is the best thing to paint," she said.
"How the best ?" "Well, just the best human thing: everyone knows that." "Has her marriage been so gloriously happy ?" said Caius to himself as the soft assurance of her tones reached his ears, and for some reason or other he felt desolate, as a soul might upon whom the door of paradise swung shut.

Then irritably he said: "_I_ don't know it.