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Автор: Oscar Wilde

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When they entered, they found hanging upon the wall a splendid
portrait of their master as they had last seen him, in all the
wonder of his exquisite youth and beauty. Lying on the floor was
a dead man, in evening dress, with a knife in his heart. He was
withered, wrinkled, and loathsome of visage. It was not till they
had examined the rings that they recognized who it was.
THE END

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