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"Oh, Harry!" cried the lad, with a ripple of laughter. "Harry

spends his days in saying what is incredible and his evenings in

doing what is improbable. Just the sort of life I would like to

lead. But still I don't think I would go to Harry if I were in

trouble. I would sooner go to you, Basil."

"You will sit to me again?"

"Impossible!"

"You spoil my life as an artist by refusing, Dorian. No man comes

across two ideal things. Few come across one."

"I can't explain it to you, Basil, but I must never sit to you

again. There is something fatal about a portrait. It has a life

of its own. I will come and have tea with you. That will be just

as pleasant."

"Pleasanter for you, I am afraid," murmured Hallward regretfully.

"And now good-bye. I am sorry you won't let me look at the

picture once again. But that can't be helped. I quite understand

what you feel about it."