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Dorian Gray drew a long breath. The color came back to his cheeks, and a smile played about his lips. The peril was over. He was safe for the time. Yet he could not help feeling infinite pity for the young man who had just made this strange confession to him. He wondered if he would ever be so dominated by the personality of a friend. Lord Harry had the charm of being very dangerous. But that was all. He was too clever and too cynical to be really fond of. Would there ever be some one who would fill him with a strange idolatry? Was that one of the things that life had in store?

‘It is extraordinary to me, Dorian,’ said Hallward, ‘that you should have seen this in the picture. Did you really see it?’

‘Of course I did.’

‘Well, you don’t mind my looking at it now?’

Dorian shook his head. ‘You must not ask me that, Basil. I could not possibly let you stand in front of that picture.’

‘You will some day, surely?’

‘Never.’

‘Well, perhaps you are right. And now good-by, Dorian. You have been the one person in my life of whom I have been really fond. I don’t suppose I shall often see you again. You don’t know what it cost me to tell you all that I have told you.’

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