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for a fashionable painter to travel! A Gladstone bag and an ulster!
Come in, or the fog will get into the house.

And mind you don’t talk about anything serious. Nothing is
serious nowadays. At least nothing should be.” Hallward shook his
head, as he entered, and followed Dorian into the library.

There was a bright wood fire blazing in the large open hearth. The
lamps were lit, and an open Dutch silver spirit-case stood, with
some siphons of soda-water and large cut-glass tumblers, on a little
marqueterie table.

“You see your servant made me quite at home, Dorian. He gave me
everything I wanted, including your best gold-tipped cigarettes.
He is a most hospitable creature. I like him much better than the
Frenchman you used to have. What has become of the Frenchman,
by the bye?” Dorian shrugged his shoulders. “I believe he married
Lady Radley’s maid, and has established her in Paris as an English
dressmaker. Anglomanie is very fashionable over there now, I
hear. It seems silly of the French, doesn’t it? But-do you know?- he
was not at all a bad servant. I never liked him, but I had nothing to
complain about. One often imagines things that are quite absurd.
He was really very devoted to me, and seemed quite sorry when
he went away. Have another brandy-and-soda? Or would you like
hock-and-seltzer? I always take hock-andseltzer myself. There is
sure to be some in the next room.” “Thanks, I won’t have anything
more,” said the painter, taking his cap and coat off, and throwing
them on the bag that he had placed in the corner. “And now, my
dear fellow, I want to speak to you seriously. Don’t frown like that.
You make it so much more difficult for me.” “What is it all about?”
cried Dorian, in his petulant way, flinging himself down on the
sofa. “I hope it is not about myself. I am tired of myself to-night. I
should like to be somebody else.”

“It is about yourself,” answered Hallward, in his grave, deep voice,
“and I must say it to you. I shall only keep you half an hour.”
Dorian sighed, and lit a cigarette. “Half an hour!” he murmured.
“It is not much to ask of you, Dorian, and it is entirely for your
own sake that I am speaking. I think it right that you should know
that the most dreadful things are being said against you in
London.” “I don’t wish to know anything about them. I love
scandals about other people, but scandals about myself don’t
interest me. They have not got the charm of novelty.” “They must
interest you, Dorian. Every gentleman is interested in his good
name. You don’t want people to talk of you as something vile and
degraded. Of course you have your position, and your wealth, and
all that kind of thing. But position and wealth are not everything.
Mind you, I don’t believe these rumours at all. At least, I can’t
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