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Dorian Gray passed his hand over his forehead. There were beads

of perspiration there. He felt that he was on the brink of a

horrible danger. "You told me a month ago that you would never

exhibit it," he cried. "Why have you changed your mind? You

people who go in for being consistent have just as many moods as

others have. The only difference is that your moods are rather

meaningless. You can't have forgotten that you assured me most

solemnly that nothing in the world would induce you to send it to

any exhibition. You told Harry exactly the same thing." He

stopped suddenly, and a gleam of light came into his eyes. He

remembered that Lord Henry had said to him once, half seriously

and half in jest, "If you want to have a strange quarter of an

hour, get Basil to tell you why he won't exhibit your picture. He

told me why he wouldn't, and it was a revelation to me." Yes,

perhaps Basil, too, had his secret. He would ask him and try.