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Lord Henry elevated his eyebrows and looked at him in amazement

through the thin blue wreaths of smoke that curled up in such

fanciful whorls from his heavy, opium-tainted cigarette. "Not

send it anywhere? My dear fellow, why? Have you any reason? What

odd chaps you painters are! You do anything in the world to gain

a reputation. As soon as you have one, you seem to want to throw

it away. It is silly of you, for there is only one thing in the

world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked

about. A portrait like this would set you far above all the young

men in England, and make the old men quite jealous, if old men

are ever capable of any emotion."

"I know you will laugh at me," he replied, "but I really can't

exhibit it. I have put too much of myself into it."

Lord Henry stretched himself out on the divan and laughed.

"Yes, I knew you would; but it is quite true, all the same."