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"How horribly unjust of you!" cried Lord Henry, tilting his hat

back and looking up at the little clouds that, like ravelled

skeins of glossy white silk, were drifting across the hollowed

turquoise of the summer sky. "Yes; horribly unjust of you. I make

a great difference between people. I choose my friends for their

good looks, my acquaintances for their good characters, and my

enemies for their good intellects. A man cannot be too careful in

the choice of his enemies. I have not got one who is a fool. They

are all men of some intellectual power, and consequently they all

appreciate me. Is that very vain of me? I think it is rather

vain."

"I should think it was, Harry. But according to your category I

must be merely an acquaintance."

"My dear old Basil, you are much more than an acquaintance."

"And much less than a friend. A sort of brother, I suppose?"

"Oh, brothers! I don't care for brothers. My elder brother won't

die, and my younger brothers seem never to do anything else."