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“Very well,” said Hallward; and he went over and laid down his
cup on the tray. “It is rather late, and, as you have to dress, you
had better lose no time.
Good-bye, Harry. Good-bye, Dorian. Come and see me soon. Come
to-morrow.” “Certainly.” “You won’t forget?”
“No, of course not,” cried Dorian.
“And... Harry!” “Yes, Basil?” “Remember what I asked you, when
we were in the garden this morning?” “I have forgotten it.” “I trust
you.” “I wish I could trust myself,” said Lord Henry, laughing.
“Come, Mr. Gray, my hansom is outside, and I can drop you at
your own place. Good-bye, Basil. It has been a most interesting
afternoon.” As the door closed behind them, the painter flung
himself down on a sofa, and a look of pain came into his face.