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The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer
wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door
the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the
pink-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying,
s... |
As they entered they saw Dorian Gray. He was seated at the piano, with his back
to them, turning over the pages of a volume of Schumann’s “Forest
Scenes.” “You must lend me these, Basil,” he cried. “I
want to learn them. They are perfectly charming.” “That entirely depends on how you sit to-day, Dorian.” “Oh, I am tire... |
At half-past twelve next day Lord Henry Wotton strolled from Curzon Street over
to the Albany to call on his uncle, Lord Fermor, a genial if somewhat
rough-mannered old bachelor, whom the outside world called selfish because it
derived no particular benefit from him, but who was considered generous by
Society as he fed... |
One afternoon, a month later, Dorian Gray was reclining in a luxurious
arm-chair, in the little library of Lord Henry’s house in Mayfair. It
was, in its way, a very charming room, with its high panelled wainscoting of
olive-stained oak, its cream-coloured frieze and ceiling of raised plasterwork,
and its brickdust felt... |
“Mother, Mother, I am so happy!” whispered the girl, burying her
face in the lap of the faded, tired-looking woman who, with back turned to the
shrill intrusive light, was sitting in the one arm-chair that their dingy
sitting-room contained. “I am so happy!” she repeated, “and
you must be happy, too!” Mrs. Vane winced ... |
“I suppose you have heard the news, Basil?” said Lord Henry that
evening as Hallward was shown into a little private room at the Bristol where
dinner had been laid for three. “No, Harry,” answered the artist, giving his hat and coat to the
bowing waiter. “What is it? Nothing about politics, I hope! They
don’t interest ... |
For some reason or other, the house was crowded that night, and the fat Jew
manager who met them at the door was beaming from ear to ear with an oily
tremulous smile. He escorted them to their box with a sort of pompous humility,
waving his fat jewelled hands and talking at the top of his voice. Dorian Gray
loathed him... |
"It was long past noon when he awoke. His valet had crept several times on\ntiptoe into the room to (...TRUNCATED) |
"As he was sitting at breakfast next morning, Basil Hallward was shown into the\nroom. “I am so gl(...TRUNCATED) |
"When his servant entered, he looked at him steadfastly and wondered if he had\nthought of peering b(...TRUNCATED) |
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