father. I sometimes think she must have married beneath her.

LORD ILLINGWORTH. [Winces slightly.] Really? [Goes over and puts
his hand on GERALD'S shoulder.] You have missed not having a
father, I suppose, Gerald?

GERALD. Oh, no; my mother has been so good to me. No one ever had
such a mother as I have had.

LORD ILLINGWORTH. I am quite sure of that. Still I should imagine
that most mothers don't quite understand their sons. Don't
realise, I mean, that a son has ambitions, a desire to see life, to
make himself a name. After all, Gerald, you couldn't be expected
to pass all your life in such a hole as Wrockley, could you?

GERALD. Oh, no! It would be dreadful!

LORD ILLINGWORTH. A mother's love is very touching, of course, but
it is often curiously selfish. I mean, there is a good deal of
selfishness in it.

GERALD. [Slowly.] I suppose there is.

LORD ILLINGWORTH. Your mother is a thoroughly good woman. But
good women have such limited views of life, their horizon is so
small, their interests are so petty, aren't they?

GERALD. They are awfully interested, certainly, in things we don't
care much about.