ignorantly.

Leonetta had been intoxicated by Denis Malster's worship. It would
perhaps be unscientific here, and therefore untrue, to overlook the fact
that the conquest of her sister's beau, had been in itself a triumphant
achievement, apart from any particular claims he might have to
attraction. But is not human nature such that in any case it is always
partially subdued by devotion? Does not even the love of an animal make
an irresistible appeal to the most callous? Is not the common preference
for dogs before cats in England, largely ascribable to the fact that the
flattery residing in devotion and affection makes such an impelling
appeal to all vain people, that the superior animal is discarded for the
inferior? The dog is grossly and offensively obscene; he is dirty, he
pollutes our streets; he is a coward, and has the pusillanimous spirit
of a rather faint-hearted lackey. The cat, on the other hand, is decent,
clean, consistently sanitary, brave, and possessed of the great-hearted
self-reliant spirit of a born warrior. The cat, however, does not fawn,
it does not flatter, it shows no devotion, it knows none of the
sycophantic wiles of the dog; but since modern mankind in England is
animated chiefly by vanity, the dog with all his objectionable
characteristics and habits is preferred.

Now women, though by no means alone in the possession of vanity, are
perhaps a little more subject than men to its sway, and it is precisely
their vanity which is their greatest danger. Like the modern Englishman,
they all too frequently overlook the noble for the inferior animal,
because the latter is a better worshipper, and, particularly when they
are still in their teens, worship from the male, which is something so
novel, so exquisitely strange, and so stimulating to their self-esteem,
constitutes one of the greatest pitfalls they can encounter.

Why should it necessarily be a pitfall? Precisely because it may induce
them to decide too soon in favour of an inferior man.

Leonetta was therefore in danger, and Lord Henry knew it.

Everything he had said and done in her presence since he had come to
Brineweald, had been deliberate, premeditated, purposeful,--all with the
intention of averting the danger she was in, or at least with the view
of giving her time to collect her senses, and to obtain some breathing
space before coming to the fatal decision.

Denis Malster was sufficiently sensitive to be vaguely aware of the
e