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‘Dear Basil! I have not laid eyes on him for a week. It is rather horrid of me, as he has sent me my portrait in the most wonderful frame, designed by himself, and, though I am a little jealous of it for being a whole month younger than I am, I must admit that I delight in it. Perhaps you had better write to him. I don’t want to see him alone. He says things that annoy me.’

Lord Henry smiled. ‘He gives you good advice, I suppose. People are very fond of giving away what they need most themselves.’

‘You don’t mean to say that Basil has got any passion or any romance in him?’

‘I don’t know whether he has any passion, but he certainly has romance,’ said Lord Henry, with an amused look in his eyes. ‘Has he never let you know that?’

‘Never. I must ask him about it. I am rather surprised to hear it. He is the best of fellows, but he seems to me to be just a bit of a Philistine. Since I have known you, Harry, I have discovered that.’

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