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57 CHAPTER VI “I suppose you have heard the news, Basil?” said Lord Henry that evening, as Hallward was shown into a little private room at the Bristol where dinner had been laid for three. “No, Harry,” answered the artist, giving his hat and coat to the bowing waiter. “What is it? Nothing about politics, I hope? They don’t interest me. There is hardly a single person in the House of Commons worth painting; though many of them would be the better for a little whitewashing.” “Dorian Gray is engaged to be married,” said Lord Henry, watching him as he spoke. Hallward started, and then frowned. “Dorian engaged to be married!” he cried. “Impossible!” “It is perfectly true.” “To whom?” “To some little actress or other.” “I can’t believe it. Dorian is far too sensible.” “Dorian is far too wise not to do foolish things now and then, my dear Basil.” “Marriage is hardly a thing that one can do now and then, Harry.” “Except in America,” rejoined Lord Henry, languidly. “But I didn’t say he was married. I said he was engaged to be married. There is a great difference. I have a distinct remembrance of being married, but I have no recollection at all of being engaged. I am inclined to think that I never was engaged.” “But think of Dorian’s birth, and position, and wealth. It would be absurd for him to marry so much beneath him.” “If you want to make him marry this girl tell him that, Basil. He is sure to do it, then. Whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing, it is always from the noblest motives.” “I hope the girl is good, Harry. I don’t want to see Dorian tied to some vile creature, who might degrade his nature and ruin his intellect.” “Oh, she is better than good-she is beautiful,” murmured Lord Henry, sipping a glass of vermouth and orange- bitters. “Dorian says she is beautiful; and he is not often wrong about things of that kind. Your portrait of him has quickened his appreciation of the personal appearance of other people. It has had that excellent effect, amongst others. We are to see her to-night, if that boy doesn’t forget his appointment.” “Are you serious?” “Quite serious, Basil. I should be miserable if I thought I should ever be more serious than I am at the present moment.” “But do you approve of it, Harry?” asked the painter, walking up and down the room, and biting his lip. “You can’t approve of it, possibly. It is some silly infatuation.” “I never approve, or disapprove, of anything now. It is an absurd attitude to take towards life. We are not sent into the world to air our moral |