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"I am delighted," he answered, smiling. Then he added, somewhat

harshly, "You are the one man in the world who is entitled to

know everything about me. You have had more to do with my life

than you think"; and, taking up the lamp, he opened the door and

went in. A cold current of air passed them, and the light shot up

for a moment in a flame of murky orange. He shuddered. "Shut the

door behind you," he whispered, as he placed the lamp on the

table.

Hallward glanced round him with a puzzled expression. The room

looked as if it had not been lived in for years. A faded Flemish

tapestry, a curtained picture, an old Italian cassone, and an

almost empty book-case-that was all that it seemed to contain,

besides a chair and a table. As Dorian Gray was lighting a

half-burned candle that was standing on the mantelshelf, he saw

that the whole place was covered with dust and that the carpet

was in holes. A mouse ran scuffling behind the wainscoting. There

was a damp odour of mildew.