me,quot; insisted Dorian Gray. quot;I t to kno; error y aken its place. ermined to find out Basil ery.

    quot;Let us sit do; said ter, looking troubled. quot;Let us sit do ansion. iced in ture somet probably at first did not strike you, but t revealed itself to you suddenly?quot;

    quot;Basil!quot; cried tcrembling  artled eyes.

    quot;I see you did. Dont speak. ait till you  I o say. Dorian, from t I met you, your personality  extraordinary influence over me. I ed, soul, brain, and poo me tion of t unseen ideal ists like an exquisite dream. I o o myself. I  in my art.... Of course, I never let you kno t . I ood it myself. I only kne I ion face to face, and t to my eyes-- too . I y armour, and as Adonis smans cloak and polisus-blossoms you  on turbid Nile. You ill pool of some Greek ers silent silver t  art se. One day, a fatal day I sometimes termined to paint a rait of you as you actually are, not in tume of dead ages, but in your oime.  y, tly presented to me  mist or veil, I cannot tell. But I kno as I  it, every flake and film of colour seemed to me to reveal my secret. I gre otry. I felt, Dorian, t I old too muc I  too muco it. t  I resolved never to alloure to be exed. You tle annoyed; but t realize all t it meant to me. o  it, laug me. But I did not mind t. ure , I felt t I  my studio, and as soon as I  rid of tolerable fascination of its presence, it seemed to me t I  I , more t you remely good-looking and t I could paint. Even no  it is a mistake to