Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers
happy. When a woman marries again it is because she detested her
first husband. When a man marries again, it is because he adored
his first wife.
Women try their luck; men risk theirs.” “Narborough wasn’t
perfect,” cried the old lady.
“If he had been, you would not have loved him, my dear lady,”
was the rejoinder. “Women love us for our defects. If we have
enough of them they will forgive us everything, even our intellects.
You will never ask me to dinner again, after saying this, I am
afraid, Lady Narborough; but it is quite true.” “Of course it is true,
Lord Henry. If we women did not love you for your defects, where
would you all be? Not one of you would ever be married. You
would be a set of unfortunate bachelors. Not, however, that that
would alter you much.
Nowadays all the married men live like bachelors, and all the
bachelors like married men.”
“Fin de siecle,” murmured Lord Henry.
“Fin du globe,” answered his hostess.
“I wish it were fin du globe,” said Dorian, with a sigh. “Life is a
great disappointment.” “Ah, my dear,” cried Lady Narborough,
putting on her gloves, “don’t tell me that you have exhausted Life.
When a man says that one knows that Life has exhausted him.
Lord Henry is very wicked, and I sometimes wish that I had been;
but you are made to be good-you look so good. I must find you a
nice wife. Lord Henry, don’t you think that Mr. Gray should get
married?” “I am always telling him so, Lady Narborough,” said
Lord Henry, with a bow.
“Well, we must look out for a suitable match for him. I shall go
through Debrett carefully to-night. and draw out a list of all the
eligible young ladies.” “With their ages, Lady Narborough?” asked
“Of course, with their ages, slightly edited. But nothing must be
done in a hurry. I want it to be what The Morning Post calls a
suitable alliance, and I want you both to be happy.” “What
nonsense people talk about happy marriages!” exclaimed Lord
“A man can be happy with any woman, as long as he does not love
her.” “Ah! what a cynic you are!” cried the old lady, pushing back
her chair, and nodding to Lady Ruxton. “You must come and dine
with me soon again. You are
really an admirable tonic, much better than what Sir Andrew
prescribes for me.