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"I am glad you appreciate my work at last, Dorian," said the

painter coldly when he had recovered from his surprise. "I never

thought you would."

"Appreciate it? I am in love with it, Basil. It is part of

myself. I feel that."

"Well, as soon as you are dry, you shall be varnished, and

framed, and sent home. Then you can do what you like with

yourself." And he walked across the room and rang the bell for

tea. "You will have tea, of course, Dorian? And so will you,

Harry? Or do you object to such simple pleasures?"