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The painter stared in amazement. It was so unlike Dorian to speak

like that. What had happened? He seemed quite angry. His face was

flushed and his cheeks burning.

"Yes," he continued, "I am less to you than your ivory Hermes or

your silver Faun. You will like them always. How long will you

like me? Till I have my first wrinkle, I suppose. I know, now,

that when one loses one's good looks, whatever they may be, one

loses everything. Your picture has taught me that. Lord Henry

Wotton is perfectly right. Youth is the only thing worth having.

When I find that I am growing old, I shall kill myself."

Hallward turned pale and caught his hand. "Dorian! Dorian!" he

cried, "don't talk like that. I have never had such a friend as

you, and I shall never have such another. You are not jealous of

material things, are you?-you who are finer than any of them!"