He was looking worried, and when he heard Lord Henry’s last remark, he glanced at him, hesitated for a moment, and then said, “Harry, I want to finish this picture to-day. The painter had been busy mixing his colours and getting his brushes ready. Gray-far too charming.” And Lord Henry flung himself down on the divan and opened his cigarette-case. “You are too charming to go in for philanthropy, Mr. One felt that he had kept himself unspotted from the world. All the candour of youth was there, as well as all youth’s passionate purity. There was something in his face that made one trust him at once. Yes, he was certainly wonderfully handsome, with his finely curved scarlet lips, his frank blue eyes, his crisp gold hair. “That is very horrid to her, and not very nice to me,” answered Dorian, laughing. When Aunt Agatha sits down to the piano, she makes quite enough noise for two people.” The audience probably thought it was a duet. And I don’t think it really matters about your not being there. “Oh, I will make your peace with my aunt. We were to have played a duet together-three duets, I believe. “I promised to go to a club in Whitechapel with her last Tuesday, and I really forgot all about it. “I am in Lady Agatha’s black books at present,” answered Dorian with a funny look of penitence. You are one of her favourites, and, I am afraid, one of her victims also.” “My aunt has often spoken to me about you. Gray,” said Lord Henry, stepping forward and extending his hand. “You have not spoiled my pleasure in meeting you, Mr. I have just been telling him what a capital sitter you were, and now you have spoiled everything.” “This is Lord Henry Wotton, Dorian, an old Oxford friend of mine. “I beg your pardon, Basil, but I didn’t know you had any one with you.” When he caught sight of Lord Henry, a faint blush coloured his cheeks for a moment, and he started up. “Oh, I am tired of sitting, and I don’t want a life-sized portrait of myself,” answered the lad, swinging round on the music-stool in a wilful, petulant manner. “That entirely depends on how you sit to-day, Dorian.” He was seated at the piano, with his back to them, turning over the pages of a volume of Schumann’s “Forest Scenes.” “You must lend me these, Basil,” he cried. You should visit Browse Happy and update your internet browser today!Īs they entered they saw Dorian Gray. The embedded audio player requires a modern internet browser.
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