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"Your wife! Dorian! ... Didn't you get my letter? I wrote to you

this morning, and sent the note down by my own man."

"Your letter? Oh, yes, I remember. I have not read it yet, Harry.

I was afraid there might be something in it that I wouldn't like.

You cut life to pieces with your epigrams."

"You know nothing then?"

"What do you mean?"

Lord Henry walked across the room, and sitting down by Dorian

Gray, took both his hands in his own and held them tightly.

"Dorian," he said, "my letter-don't be frightened-was to tell you

that Sibyl Vane is dead."

A cry of pain broke from the lad's lips, and he leaped to his

feet, tearing his hands away from Lord Henry's grasp. "Dead!

Sibyl dead! It is not true! It is a horrible lie! How dare you

say it?"