“Oh, I can’t clarify. After I like individuals immensely, I by no means inform their names to anyone. It’s like surrendering part of them. I’ve grown to like secrecy. It appears to be the one factor that may make fashionable life mysterious or marvellous to us. The most typical factor is pleasant if one solely hides it. After I go away city now I by no means inform my individuals the place I’m going. If I did, I might lose all my pleasure. It’s a foolish behavior, I dare say, however one way or the other it appears to deliver quite a lot of romance into one’s life. I suppose you suppose me awfully silly about it?”
“In no way,” answered Lord Henry, “under no circumstances, my pricey Basil. You appear to overlook that I’m married, and the one attraction of marriage is that it makes a lifetime of deception completely essential for each events. I by no means know the place my spouse is, and my spouse by no means is aware of what I’m doing. Once we meet—we do meet sometimes, once we dine out collectively, or go right down to the Duke’s—we inform one another essentially the most absurd tales with essentially the most severe faces. My spouse is excellent at it—significantly better, in reality, than I’m. She by no means will get confused over her dates, and I all the time do. However when she does discover me out, she makes no row in any respect. I generally want she would; however she merely laughs at me.”
“I hate the way in which you speak about your married life, Harry,” stated Basil Hallward, strolling in the direction of the door that led into the backyard. “I imagine that you’re actually an excellent husband, however that you’re totally ashamed of your individual virtues. You’re a unprecedented fellow. You by no means say an ethical factor, and also you by no means do a improper factor. Your cynicism is just a pose.”
“Being pure is just a pose, and essentially the most irritating pose I do know,” cried Lord Henry, laughing; and the 2 younger males went out into the backyard collectively and ensconced themselves on an extended bamboo seat that stood within the shade of a tall laurel bush. The daylight slipped over the polished leaves. Within the grass, white daisies have been tremulous.
After a pause, Lord Henry pulled out his watch. “I’m afraid I have to be going, Basil,” he murmured, “and earlier than I am going, I insist in your answering a query I put to you a while in the past.”
“What’s that?” stated the painter, conserving his eyes mounted on the bottom.
“You realize fairly effectively.”
“I don’t, Harry.”
