She was vaguely but deliciously aware of her own body as a part of it, and of her husband's joy in contemplating her.
"He thinks me good-looking," she said to herself, and the thought came to her as a revelation.
Then her young memory woke again and thrust at her.
"He thinks me good-looking.

That's why he married me." She longed to find out if it were so.
"Walter," said she, "I want to ask you a question." "Well--if it's an easy one." "It isn't--very.

What made you want to marry me ?" He paused a moment, searching for the truth.
"Your goodness." "Is that really true ?" "To the best of my belief, madam, it is." "But there are so many other women better than me." "Possibly.

I haven't been happy enough to meet them." "And if you had met them ?" "As far as I can make out, I shouldn't have fallen in love with them.
I shouldn't have fallen in love with _you_, if it hadn't been for your goodness.

But I shouldn't have fallen in love with your goodness in any other woman." "Have you known many other women ?" "One way and another, in the course of my life--yes.