ne of Harry's views, isn't it, Mr. Gray? I always hear
Harry's views from his friends. It is the only way I get to know of
them. But you must not think I don't like good music. I adore it, but
I am afraid of it. It makes me too romantic. I have simply worshipped
pianists--two at a time, sometimes, Harry tells me. I don't know what
it is about them. Perhaps it is that they are foreigners. They all
are, ain't they? Even those that are born in England become foreigners
after a time, don't they? It is so clever of them, and such a
compliment to art. Makes it quite cosmopolitan, doesn't it? You have
never been to any of my parties, have you, Mr. Gray? You must come. I
can't afford orchids, but I share no expense in foreigners. They make
one's rooms look so picturesque. But here is Harry! Harry, I came in
to look for you, to ask you something--I forget what it was--and I
found Mr. Gray here. We have had such a pleasant chat about music. We
have quite the same ideas. No; I think our ideas are quite different.
But he has been most pleasant. I am so glad I've seen him."

"I am charmed, my love, quite charmed," said Lord Henry, elevating his
dark, crescent-shaped eyebrows and looking at them both with an amused
smile. "So sorry I am late, Dorian. I went to look after a piece of
old brocade in Wardour Street and had to bargain for hours for it.
Nowadays people know the price of everything and the value of nothing."

"I am afraid I must be going," exclaimed Lady Henry, breaking an
awkward silence with her silly sudden laugh. "I have promised to drive
with the duchess. Good-bye, Mr. Gray. Good-bye, Harry. You are
dining out, I suppose? So am I. Perhaps I shall see you at Lady
Thornbury's."

"I dare say, my dear," said Lord Henry, shutting the door behind her
as, looking like a bird of paradise that had been out all night in the
rain, she flitted out of the room, leaving a faint odour of
frangipanni. Then he lit a cigarette and flung himself down on the
sofa.

"Never marry a woman with straw-coloured hair, Dorian," he said after a
few puffs.

"Why, Harry?"

"Because they are so sentimental."

"But I like sentimental people."

"Never marry at all, Dorian. Men marry because they are tired; women,
because they are curious: both are disappointed."

"I don't think I am likely to marry, Harry. I am too much in love.
That is one of your aphorisms. I am putting it into practice, as I do
everythin