ase of women of deep passions, like these beautiful
Delarayne girls, it is a harrowing drama."

Sir Joseph looked up. Lord Henry's words had sobered him.

"You don't say so!" he muttered.

"I do, most emphatically," the young man continued "All our plan of life
in England, you see, is founded on the assumption that only people of
mediocre and diluted passion will hold the stage. We allow our girls to
go about freely with young men, for instance. Why?"

"Because we can trust the young men," suggested Sir Joseph.

"Not a bit of it!--because both men and girls are usually so very much
below par temperamentally that they can exercise what is called
'self-control,'--that is to say their passions are relied upon always to
be weaker than their 'self-control'."

Sir Joseph was by now utterly bewildered.

"We allow our daughters to exercise the most heartless rivalry one
against the other in the matrimonial field--why?"

Sir Joseph, who imagined that the young nobleman was growing impatient
with him, did not venture to reply.

"Because," continued Lord Henry, "we know perfectly well that they are
too tame, too mild, too listless about life, ever to become homicidal in
their hatred of one another. The moment two deep, eager and adorable
girls, like these daughters of Mrs. Delarayne, walk on to our English
boards, our whole fabric, our whole scenery, and stage machinery, is
shown to be wrong to the last screw. God! How different this country
must have been when Shakespeare was able to say that thing about one
touch of nature! Now one touch of nature in England sets the whole world
by the ears!"

"Is Cleopatra very bad then?" Sir Joseph enquired anxiously.

"So bad that she would have been suicidal if steps had not been taken
immediately. You see it isn't everybody who is so lukewarm, so anaemic,
as to make a cheerful old maid. Cheery old maids are the condemnation of
modern English womanhood Their frequency in England shows the
shallowness of the average modern woman's passion. Among all
warm-blooded peoples old maids are known to be bitter, resentful,
untractable and misanthropic."

"Are they really?" exclaimed Sir Joseph. "I didn't know that."

Mrs. Delarayne came towards them.

"Lord Henry," she cried, "Cleopatra is coming to lunch. You have
already done wonders with her. At least she wants to be well now. That's
a great triumph."

The remainder of the party now came up the garden towards the house.

"Lord H