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Cer 8
It noon imes on tiptoe into to see if irring, and made er sleep so late. Finally or came in softly ea, and a pile of letters, on a small tray of old Sevres cin curtains, of tall windows.
quot;Monsieur t; he said, smiling.
quot; oclock is it, Victor?quot; asked Dorian Gray drowsily.
quot;One er, Monsieur.quot;
e it urned over ters. One of t by morning. ated for a moment, and t it aside. tlessly. tained tion of cards, invitations to dinner, tickets for private vies, and t are soilet-set t yet o send on to remely old-fas realize t eously ions from Jermyn Street money-lenders offering to advance any sum of money at a moments notice and at t reasonable rates of interest.
After about ten minutes up, and te dressing-goer refreser o ten all t aken part in some strange tragedy came to ty of a dream about it.
As soon as into t doo a lig t for able close to t e day. t, filled ood before perfectly happy.
Suddenly of trait, and arted.
quot;too cold for Monsieur?quot; asked , putting an omelette on table. quot;I s t;
Dorian s;I am not cold,quot; he murmured.
as it all true? rait really c been simply ion t ed canvas could not alter? t ale to tell Basil some day. It would make him smile.
And, yet, ion of t in t dreaded leaving t rait. ainty. tes and turned to go, a o tell o remain. As tood ing for . quot;I am not at o any one, Victor,quot; ired.
table, lit a cigarette, and flung stood facing t Spanisamped and tern. curiously, of a mans life.
S aside, after all? let it stay t rue, it errible. If it true, it? But e or deadlier c so look at ure? Basil o do t. No; to be examined, and at once. Anytter tate of doubt.
up and locked bot least o face. It ly true. trait ered.
As en remembered after first gazing at trait scientific interest. t sucaken place o it . as tle affinity betoms t so form and colour on t be t soul t, t dreamed, true? O
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