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"What nonsense people talk about happy marriages!" exclaimed Lord

Henry. "A man can be happy with any woman, as long as he does not

love her."

"Ah! what a cynic you are!" cried the old lady, pushing back her

chair and nodding to Lady Ruxton. "You must come and dine with me

soon again. You are really an admirable tonic, much better than

what Sir Andrew prescribes for me. You must tell me what people

you would like to meet, though. I want it to be a delightful

gathering."

"I like men who have a future and women who have a past," he

answered. "Or do you think that would make it a petticoat party?"

"I fear so," she said, laughing, as she stood up. "A thousand

pardons, my dear Lady Ruxton," she added, "I didn't see you

hadn't finished your cigarette."

"Never mind, Lady Narborough. I smoke a great deal too much. I am

going to limit myself, for the future."

"Pray don't, Lady Ruxton," said Lord Henry. "Moderation is a

fatal thing. Enough is as bad as a meal. More than enough is as

good as a feast."