LORD ILLINGWORTH. I will keep it now. And that will show you that
I love my son, at least as much as you love him. For when I marry
you, Rachel, there are some ambitions I shall have to surrender.
High ambitions, too, if any ambition is high.

MRS. ARBUTHNOT. I decline to marry you, Lord Illingworth.

LORD ILLINGWORTH. Are you serious?

MRS. ARBUTHNOT. Yes.

LORD ILLINGWORTH. Do tell me your reasons. They would interest me
enormously.

MRS. ARBUTHNOT. I have already explained them to my son.

LORD ILLINGWORTH. I suppose they were intensely sentimental,
weren't they? You women live by your emotions and for them. You
have no philosophy of life.

MRS. ARBUTHNOT. You are right. We women live by our emotions and
for them. By our passions, and for them, if you will. I have two
passions, Lord Illingworth: my love of him, my hate of you. You
cannot kill those. They feed each other.

LORD ILLINGWORTH. What sort of love is that which needs to have
hate as its brother?

MRS. ARBUTHNOT. It is the sort of love I have for Gerald. Do you