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"Yes," murmured Lord Henry, settling his button-hole in his coat;

"and when they grow older they know it. But I don't want money.

It is only people who pay their bills who want that, Uncle

George, and I never pay mine. Credit is the capital of a younger

son, and one lives charmingly upon it. Besides, I always deal

with Dartmoor's tradesmen, and consequently they never bother me.

What I want is information: not useful information, of course;

useless information."

"Well, I can tell you anything that is in an English Blue Book,

Harry, although those fellows nowadays write a lot of nonsense.

When I was in the Diplomatic, things were much better. But I hear

they let them in now by examination. What can you expect?

Examinations, sir, are pure humbug from beginning to end. If a

man is a gentleman, he knows quite enough, and if he is not a

gentleman, whatever he knows is bad for him."

"Mr. Dorian Gray does not belong to Blue Books, Uncle George,"

said Lord Henry languidly.