Still, there are certain temperaments that marriage makes more complex.
They retain their egotism, and add to it many other egos. They are
forced to have more than one life. They become more highly organized,
and to be highly organized is, I should fancy, the object of man's
existence. Besides, every experience is of value, and whatever one may
say against marriage, it is certainly an experience. I hope that Dorian
Gray will make this girl his wife, passionately adore her for six
months, and then suddenly become fascinated by some one else. He would
be a wonderful study."

"You don't mean a single word of all that, Harry; you know you don't. If
Dorian Gray's life were spoiled, no one would be sorrier than yourself.
You are much better than you pretend to be."

Lord Henry laughed. "The reason we all like to think so well of others
is that we are all afraid for ourselves. The basis of optimism is sheer
terror. We think that we are generous because we credit our neighbour
with the possession of those virtues that are likely to be a benefit to
us. We praise the banker that we may overdraw our account, and find good
qualities in the highwayman in the hope that he may spare our pockets. I
mean everything that I have said. I have the greatest contempt for
optimism. As for a spoiled life, no life is spoiled but one whose growth
is arrested. If you want to mar a nature, you have merely to reform it.
As for marriage, of course that would be silly, but there are other and
more interesting bonds between men and women. I will certainly encourage
them. They have the charm of being fashionable. But here is Dorian
himself. He will tell you more than I can."

"My dear Harry, my dear Basil, you must both congratulate me!" said the
lad, throwing off his evening cape with its satin-lined wings and
shaking each of his friends by the hand in turn. "I have never been so
happy. Of course, it is sudden-- all really delightful things are. And
yet it seems to me to be the one thing I have been looking for all my
life." He was flushed with excitement and pleasure, and looked
extraordinarily handsome.

"I hope you will always be very happy, Dorian," said Hallward, "but I
don't quite forgive you for not having let me know of your engagement.
You let Harry know."

"And I don't forgive you for being late for dinner," broke in Lord
Henry, putting his hand on the lad's shoulder and smiling as he spoke.
"Come, let us sit down and try what the new chef here is like, and then
you will tell us how it all came about."

"There is really not much to tell," cried Dorian as they took their
seats at the small round table. "What happened was simply this. After I
left you yesterday evening, Harry, I dressed, had some dinner at that
little Italian restaurant in Rupert Street you introduced me to, and
went down at eight o'clock to the theatre. Sibyl was playing Rosalind.
Of course, the scenery was dreadful and the Orlando absurd. But Sibyl!
You should have seen her! When she came on in her boy's clothes, she was
perfectly wonderful. She wore a moss-coloured velvet jerkin with
cinnamon sleeves, slim, brown, cross-gartered hose, a dainty little
green cap with a hawk's feather caught in a jewel, and a hooded cloak
lined with dull red. She had never seemed to me more exquisite. She had
all the delicate grace of that Tanagra figurine that you have in your
studio, Basil. Her hair clustered round her face like dark leaves round
a pale rose. As for her acting--well, you shall see her to-night. She is
simply a born artist. I sat in the dingy box absolutely enthralled. I
forgot that I was in London and in the nineteenth century. I was away
with my love in a forest that no man had ever seen. After the
performance was over, I went behind and spoke to her. As we were sitting
together, suddenly there came into her eyes a look that I had never seen
there before. My lips moved towards hers. We kissed each other. I can't
describe to you what I felt at that moment. It seemed to me that all my
life had been narrowed to one perfect point of rose-coloured joy. She
trembled all over and shook like a white narcissus. Then she flung
herself on her knees and kissed my hands. I feel that I should not tell
you all this, but I can't help it. Of course, our engagement is a dead
secret. She has not even told her own mother. I don't know what my
guardians will say. Lord Radley is sure to be furious. I don't care. I
shall be of age in less than a year, and then I can do what I like. I
have been right, Basil, haven't I, to take my love out of poetry and to
find my wife in Shakespeare's plays? Lips that Shakespeare taught to
speak have whispered their secret in my ear. I have had the arms of
Rosalind around me, and kissed Juliet on the mouth."

"Yes, Dorian, I suppose you were right," said Hallward slowly.

"Have you seen her to-day?" asked Lord Henry.

Dorian Gray shook his head. "I left her in the forest of Arden; I shall
find her in an orchard in Verona."

Lord Henry sipped his champagne in a meditative manner. "At what
particular point did you mention the word marriage, Dorian? And what did
she say in answer? Perhaps you forgot all about it."

"My dear Harry, I did not treat it as a business transaction, and I did
not make any formal proposal. I told her that I loved her, and she said
she was not worthy to be my wife. Not worthy! Why, the whole world is
nothing to me compared with her."

"Women are wonderfully practical," murmured Lord Henry, "much more
practical than we are. In situations of that kind we often forget to say
anything about marriage, and they always remind us."

Hallward laid his hand upon his arm. "Don't, Harry. You have annoyed
Dorian. He is not like other men. He would never bring misery upon any


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