“How unreasonable of her!  You should give her warning.”

“I daren’t, Mr. Gray.  Why, she invents hats for me. 
You remember the one I wore at Lady Hilstone’s garden-party? 
You don’t, but it is nice of you to pretend that you do. 
Well, she made if out of nothing.  All good hats are made out
of nothing.”

“Like all good reputations, Gladys,” interrupted Lord Henry. 
“Every effect that one produces gives one an enemy. 
To be popular one must be a mediocrity.”

“Not with women,” said the duchess, shaking her head; “and women rule the world.  I assure you we can’t bear mediocrities.  We women, as some one says, love with our ears, just as you men love with your eyes, if you ever love at all.”

“It seems to me that we never do anything else,” murmured Dorian.

“Ah! then, you never really love, Mr. Gray,” answered the duchess with mock sadness.

“My dear Gladys!” cried Lord Henry.  “How can you say that?  Romance lives by repetition, and repetition converts an appetite into an art.  Besides, each time that one loves is the only time one has ever loved.  Difference of object does not alter singleness of passion.  It merely intensifies it.  We can have in life but one great experience at best, and the secret of life is to reproduce that experience as often as possible.”

“Even when one has been wounded by it, Harry?” asked the duchess after a pause.

“Especially when one has been wounded by it,” answered Lord Henry.

The duchess turned and looked at Dorian Gray with a curious expression in her eyes.  “What do you say to that, Mr. Gray?” she inquired.

Dorian hesitated for a moment.  Then he threw his head back and laughed.  “I always agree with Harry, Duchess.”

“Even when he is wrong?”

“Harry is never wrong, Duchess.”

“And does his philosophy make you happy?”

“I have never searched for happiness.  Who wants happiness? 
I have searched for pleasure.”

“And found it, Mr. Gray?”

“Often.  Too often.”

The duchess sighed.  “I am searching for peace,” she said, “and if I don’t go and dress, I shall have none this evening.”

“Let me get you some orchids, Duchess,” cried Dorian, starting to his feet and walking down the conservatory.

“You are flirting disgracefully with him,” said Lord Henry to his cousin.  “You had better take care.  He is very fascinating.”

“If he were not, there would be no battle.”

“Greek meets Greek, then?”

“I am on the side of the Trojans.  They fought for a woman.”

“They were defeated.”

“There are worse things than capture,” she answered.

“You gallop with a loose rein.”

“Pace gives life,” was the riposte.

“I shall write it in my diary to-night.”

“What?”

“That a burnt child loves the fire.”