Cer 4

    One afternoon, a monter, Dorian Gray le library of Lord  s ained oak, its cream-coloured frieze and ceiling of raised plasters brickdust felt carpet streiny satinable stood a statuette by Clodion, and beside it lay a copy of Les Cent Nouvelles, bound for Margaret of Valois by Clovis Eve and po daisies t Queen ed for -tulips elsreamed t-coloured light of a summer day in London.

    Lord  yet come in. e on principle,  punctuality is time. So tless fingers urned over tely illustrated edition of Manon Lescaut t onous ticking of torze clock annoyed wice  of going away.

    At last ep outside, and t;e you are, ; he murmured.

    quot;I am afraid it is not ; answered a shrill voice.

    o . quot;I beg your pardon. I t--quot;

    quot;You t it  me introduce myself. I knoe een of t;

    quot;Not seventeen, Lady ;

    quot;ell, eig at t; Sc-me-not eyes. S on in a tempest. Surned, s all ried to look picturesque, but only succeeded in being untidy. oria, and s mania for going to church.

    quot;t  Lo;

    quot;Yes; it  dear Loter t is so loud t one can talk time  ot one says. t is a great advantage, dont you t;

    taccato laugo play ortoise-shell paper-knife.

    Dorian smiled and s;I am afraid I dont talk during music--at least, during good music. If one  is ones duty to dro in conversation.quot;

    quot;A is one of  it, Mr. Gray? I al to kno you must not t like good music. I adore it, but I am afraid of it. It makes me too romanti