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作者: Oscar Wilde

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"Oh, I am tired of sitting, and I don't 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, and
he started up. "I beg your pardon, Basil, but I didn't know you
had any one with 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 in meeting you, Mr. Gray," said
Lord Henry, stepping forward and extending 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."

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