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Автор: Oscar Wilde

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"Oh, please don't, Lord Henry. I see that Basil is in one of his
sulky moods, and I can't bear him when he sulks. Besides, I want
you to tell me why I should not go in for philanthropy."
"I don't 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 don't really mind, Basil, do you? You have often told
me that you liked your sitters to have some one to chat to."
Hallward bit his lip. "If Dorian wishes it, of course you must
stay. Dorian's 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. Come and see me some
afternoon in Curzon Street. I am nearly always at home at five
o'clock. Write to me when you are coming. I should be sorry to
miss you."

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