The Cathedral by Hugh Walpole

Ronder was never happier than when he was wishing well to all mankind.

He could neither force nor falsify this emotion. If he did not feel it he did not feel it, and himself was the loser. But it sometimes occurred that the weather was bright, that his digestion was functioning admirably, that he liked his surroundings, that he had agreeable work, that his prospects were happy -- then he literally beamed upon mankind and in his fancy showered upon the poor and humble largesse of glittering coin. In such a mood he loved every one, would pat children on the back, help old men along the road, listen to the long winnings of the reluctant poor. Utterly genuine he was; he meant every word that he spoke and every smile that he bestowed.