ouchthegreatpurple-and-goldtexturethatcoveredit,and,holdingitinhishands,passedbehindthes.Wasthefathevasvilerthanbefore?Itseemedtohimthatitwasunged,ahisloathingofitwasintensified.Goldhair,blueeyes,androse-redlips--theyallwerethere.Itwassimplytheexpressionthathadaltered.Thatwashorribleinitscruelty.paredtowhathesawinitofsureorrebuke,howshallowBasilsreproachesaboutSibylVanehadbeen!--howshallow,andofwhatlittleat!Hisownsoulwaslookingoutathimfromthevasandcallinghimtojudgement.Alookofpaincameacrosshim,andheflungtherichpalloverthepicture.Ashedidso,aknockcametothedoor.Hepassedoutashisservaered.

    "Thepersonsarehere,Monsieur."

    Hefeltthatthemanmustbegotridofatonce.Hemustnotbeallowedtoknowwherethepicturewasbeingtakento.Therewassomethingslyabouthim,ahoughtful,treacherouseyes.Sittingdownatthewriting-tablehescribbledaoLordHenry,askinghimtosendhimroundsomethingtoreadandremindinghimthattheyweretomeetateight-fifteenthatevening.

    "Waitforananswer,"hesaid,handingittohim,"andshowthemeninhere."

    IntwoorthreemiherewasanotherknodMr.Hubbardhimself,thecelebratedframe-makerofSouthAudleyStreet,cameinwithasomewhatrough-lookingyoungassistant.Mr.Hubbardwasaflorid,red-whiskeredlittleman,whoseadmirationforartwassiderablytemperedbytheieimpeiosityofmostoftheartistswhodealtwithhim.Asarule,heneverlefthisshop.Hewaitedforpeopletoetohim.Buthealwaysmadeaioninfavourray.TherewassomethingaboutDorianthatcharmedeverybody.Itleasureeventoseehim.

    "WhatIdoforyr