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But women never know when the curtain has fallen. They always

want a sixth act, and as soon as the interest of the play is

entirely over, they propose to continue it. If they were allowed

their own way, every comedy would have a tragic ending, and every

tragedy would culminate in a farce. They are charmingly

artificial, but they have no sense of art. You are more fortunate

than I am. I assure you, Dorian, that not one of the women I have

known would have done for me what Sibyl Vane did for you.

Ordinary women always console themselves. Some of them do it by

going in for sentimental colours. Never trust a woman who wears

mauve, whatever her age may be, or a woman over thirty-five who

is fond of pink ribbons. It always means that they have a

history. Others find a great consolation in suddenly discovering

the good qualities of their husbands. They flaunt their conjugal

felicity in one's face, as if it were the most fascinating of

sins. Religion consoles some.