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‘Don’t look so angry, Basil. It was at my aunt’s, Lady Agatha’s. She told me she had discovered a wonderful young man, who was going to help her in the East End, and that his name was Dorian Gray. I am bound to state that she never told me he was good-looking. Women have no appreciation of good looks. At least, good women have not. She said that he was very earnest, and had a beautiful nature. I at once pictured to myself a creature with spectacles and lank hair, horridly freckled, and tramping about on huge feet. I wish I had known it was your friend.’

‘I am very glad you didn’t, Harry.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t want you to meet him.’

‘Mr. Dorian Gray is in the studio, sir,’ said the butler, coming into the garden.

‘You must introduce me now,’ cried Lord Henry, laughing.

Basil Hallward turned to the servant, who stood blinking in the sunlight. ‘Ask Mr. Gray to wait, Parker: I will be in in a few moments.’ The man bowed, and went up the walk.

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