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PinkMonkey.com Digital Library-The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde


8

as an auctioneer treats his goods. She either explains them entirely
away, or tells one everything about them except what one wants to
know.” “Poor Lady Brandon! You are hard on her, Harry!” said
Hallward, listlessly.

“My dear fellow, she tried to found a salon, and only succeeded in
opening a restaurant. How could I admire her? But tell me, what
did she say about Mr. Dorian Gray?” “Oh, something like
‘Charming boy-poor dear mother and I absolutely inseparable.
Quite forget what he does-afraid he-doesn’t do anything-oh, yes,
plays the piano-or is it the violin, dear Mr. Gray?’ Neither of us
could help laughing, and we became friends at once.” “Laughter is
not at all a bad beginning for a friendship, and it is far the best
ending for one,” said the young lord, plucking another daisy.
Hallward shook his head. “You don’t understand what friendship
is, Harry,” he murmured-“or what enmity is, for that matter. You
like every one; that is to say, you are indifferent to every one.”
“How horribly unjust of you!” cried Lord Henry, tilting his hat
back, and looking up at the little clouds that, like ravelled skeins of
glossy white silk, were drifting across the hollowed turquoise of
the summer sky. “Yes, horribly unjust of you. I make a great
difference between people. I choose my friends for their good
looks, my acquaintances for their good characters, and my enemies
for their good intellects. A man cannot be too careful in the choice
of his enemies. I have not got one who is a fool, they are all men of
some intellectual power, and consequently they all appreciate me.
Is that very vain of me? I think it is rather vain.” “I should think it
was, Harry. But according to your category I must be merely an
acquaintance.” “My dear old Basil, you are much more than an
acquaintance.” “And much less than a friend. A sort of brother, I
suppose?” “Oh, brothers! I don’t care for brothers. My elder
brother won’t die, and my younger brothers seem never to do
anything else.” “Harry!” exclaimed Hallward, frowning.

“My dear fellow, I am not quite serious. But I can’t help detesting
my relations. I suppose it comes from the fact that none of us can
stand other people having the same faults as ourselves. I quite
sympathize with the rage of the English democracy against what
they call the vices of the upper orders. The masses feel that
drunkenness, stupidity, and immorality should be their own
special property, and that if any one of us makes an ass of himself
he is poaching on their preserves. When poor Southwark got into
the Divorce Court, their indignation was quite magnificent. And
yet I don’t suppose that ten per cent of the proletariat live
correctly.” “I don’t agree with a single word that you have said,
and, what is more, Harry, I feel sure that you don’t either.”
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PinkMonkey.com Digital Library-The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde



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