cismissimplyapose."

    "Beingnaturalissimplyapose,airritatingposeIknow,"criedLordHenry,laughing;awoyoungmeoutintothegardeherandenscedthemselvesonalongbambooseatthatstoodintheshadeofatalllaurelbush.Thesunlightslippedoverthepolishedleaves.Inthegrass,whitedaisiesweretremulous.

    Afterapause,LordHenrypulledouthiswatch."IamafraidImustbegoing,Basil,"hemurmured,"andbefo,IinsistonyouransweringaquestionIputtoyousometimeago."

    "Whatisthat?"saidthepainter,keepinghiseyesfixedontheground.

    "Youknowquitewell."

    "Idonot,Harry."

    "Well,Iwilltellyouwhatitis.IwantyoutoexplaintomewhyyouwontexhibitDrayspicture.Iwanttherealreason."

    "Itoldyoutherealreason."

    "No,youdidnot.Yousaiditwasbecausetherewastoomuchofyourselfinit.Now,thatischildish."

    "Harry,"saidBasilHallward,lookinghimstraightintheface,"everyportraitthatispaihfeelingisaportraitoftheartist,notofthesitter.Thesitterismerelytheact,theoccasion.Itisnothewhoisrevealedbythepaiisratherthepainterwho,onthecolouredvas,revealshimself.ThereasonIwillnotexhibitthispictureisthatIamafraidthatIhaveshowninittheseyownsoul."

    LordHenrylaughed."Andwhatisthat?"heasked.

    "Iwilltellyou,"saidHallward;butanexpressionofperplexitycameoverhisface.

    "Iamallexpectation,Basil,"tinuedhispanion,glangathim.

    "Oh,thereisreallyverylittletotell,Harry,"