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‘You will always like me, Dorian,’ said Lord Henry. ‘Will you have some coffee, you fellows?—Waiter, bring coffee, and fine-champagne, and some cigarettes. No: don’t mind the cigarettes; I have some.— Basil, I can’t allow you to smoke cigars. You must have a cigarette. A cigarette is the perfect type of a perfect pleasure. It is exquisite, and it leaves one unsatisfied. What more can you want?— Yes, Dorian, you will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you have never had the courage to commit.’

‘What nonsense you talk, Harry!’ cried Dorian Gray, lighting his cigarette from a fire-breathing silver dragon that the waiter had placed on the table. ‘Let us go down to the theatre. When you see Sibyl you will have a new ideal of life. She will represent something to you that you have never known.’

‘I have known everything,’ said Lord Henry, with a sad look in his eyes, ‘but I am always ready for a new emotion. I am afraid that there is no such thing, for me at any rate. Still, your wonderful girl may thrill me. I love acting. It is so much more real than life. Let us go. Dorian, you will come with me.—I am so sorry, Basil, but there is only room for two in the brougham. You must follow us in a hansom.’

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