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Chapter 19
e. I remember I ed to buy it. I o Basils best period. Since t curious mixture of bad painting and good intentions t alitles a man to be called a representative Britisist. Did you advertise for it? You s;

    quot;I forget,quot; said Dorian. quot;I suppose I did. But I never really liked it. I am sorry I sat for it. teful to me. alk of it? It used to remind me of t, I they run?--

    Like ting of a sorrow,

    A face  a .

    Yes: t is  ;

    Lord ;If a man treats life artistically, ,quot; o an arm-chair.

    Dorian Gray sruck some soft c;Like ting of a sorro; ed, quot;a face  a .quot;

    t ;By t; er a pause, quot; profit a man if ation run?-- ;

    tarted and stared at ;, ;

    quot;My dear fello; said Lord ing ;I asked you because I t you migo give me an ans is all. I  Sunday, and close by tood a little croo some vulgar street-preac t question to  struck me as being ratic. London is very rics of t kind. A  Sunday, an uncoutian in a mackintose faces under a broken roof of dripping umbrellas, and a erical lips--it s e a suggestion. I t of telling t t art  t man . I am afraid,  ood me.quot;

    quot;Dont, errible reality. It can be bougered a can be poisoned, or made perfect. t.quot;

    quot;Do you feel quite sure of t, Dorian?quot;

    quot;Quite sure.quot;

    quot;A must be an illusion. tely certain about are never true. t is tality of fait be so serious.  o do itions of our age? No: ell me, in a lo . I am only ten years older to-nig.
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