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"What sort of ways, Basil?"

"Oh! I should fancy in remorse, in suffering, in ... well, in the

consciousness of degradation."

Lord Henry shrugged his shoulders. "My dear fellow, mediaeval art

is charming, but mediaeval emotions are out of date. One can use

them in fiction, of course. But then the only things that one can

use in fiction are the things that one has ceased to use in fact.

Believe me, no civilized man ever regrets a pleasure, and no

uncivilized man ever knows what a pleasure is."

"I know what pleasure is," cried Dorian Gray. "It is to adore

some one."

"That is certainly better than being adored," he answered, toying

with some fruits. "Being adored is a nuisance. Women treat us

just as humanity treats its gods. They worship us, and are always

bothering us to do something for them."

"I should have said that whatever they ask for they had first

given to us," murmured the lad gravely. "They create love in our

natures. They have a right to demand it back."