Chapter 2
As they ehey saw Dorian Gray. He was seated at the piano, with his back to them, turning over the pages of a volume of Schumanns "Forest Ses." "You must lehese, Basil," he cried. "I want to learhey are perfectly charming."
"That entirely depends on how you sit to-day, Dorian."
"Oh, I am tired of sitting, and I dont want a life-sized portrait of myself," answered the lad, swinging round on the music-stool in a wilful, petulant manner. When he caught sight of Lord Henry, a faint blush coloured his cheeks for a moment, aarted up. "I beg your pardon, Basil, but I didnt know you had any oh you."
"This is Lord Henry Wotton, Dorian, an old Oxford friend of mine. I have just been telling him what a capital sitter you were, and now you have spoiled everything."
"You have not spoiled my pleasure iing you, Mr. Gray," said Lord Henry, stepping forward aending his hand. "My aunt has often spoken to me about you. You are one of her favourites, and, I am afraid, one of her victims also."
"I am in Lady Agathas black books at present," answered Dorian with a funny look of penitence. "I promised to go to a club in Whitechapel with her last Tuesday, and I really fot all about it. We were to have played a duet together--three duets, I believe. I dont know what she will say to me. I am far thteo call."
"Oh, I will make your peace with my aunt. She is quite devoted to you. And I dont think it really matters about your not being there. The audience probably thought it was a duet. When Aunt Agatha sits down to the piano, she makes quite enough noise for two people."
"That is very horrid to her, and not very o me," answered Dorian, laughing.
Lord Henry looked at him. Yes, he was certainly wonderfully handsome, with his finely curved scarlet lips, his frank blue eyes, his crisp gold hair. There was something in his face that made orust him at once. All the dour of youth was there, as well as all youths passionate purity. Ohat he had kept himself unspotted from the world. No wonder Basil Hallward worshipped him.
"You are too charming to go in for philanthropy, Mr. Gray--far too charming." And Lord Henry flung himself down on the divan and opened his cigarette-case.
The painter had been busy mixing his colours aing his brushes ready. He was looking worried, and when he heard Lord Henrys last remark, he gla him, hesitated for a moment, and then said, "Harry, I want to finish this picture to-day. Would you think it awfully rude of me if I asked you to go away?"
Lord Henry smiled and looked at Dorian Gray. "Am I to gray?" he asked.
"Oh, please dont, Lord Henry. I see that Basil is in one of his sulky moods, and I t bear him when he sulks. Besides, I want you to tell me why I should not go in for philanthropy."
"I dont know that I shall tell you that, Mr. Gray. It is so tedious a subject that one would have to talk seriously about it. But I certainly shall not run away, now that you have asked me to stop. You dont really mind, Basil, do you? You have often told me that you liked your sitters to have some oo chat to."
Hallward bit his lip. "If Dorian wishes it, of course you must stay. Dorians whims are laws to everybody, except himself."
Lord Henry took up his hat and gloves. "You are very pressing, Basil, but I am afraid I must go. I have promised to meet a man at the Orleans. Good-bye, Mr. Gray. e and see me some afternoon in Curzon Street. I am nearly alway