A smile curved Lord Henry’s lips, and he turned round and looked at Dorian.

“Are you better, my dear fellow?” he asked.  “You seemed rather out of sorts at dinner.”

“I am quite well, Harry.  I am tired.  That is all.”

“You were charming last night.  The little duchess is quite devoted to you.  She tells me she is going down to Selby.”

“She has promised to come on the twentieth.”

“Is Monmouth to be there, too?”

“Oh, yes, Harry.”

“He bores me dreadfully, almost as much as he bores her.  She is very clever, too clever for a woman.  She lacks the indefinable charm of weakness.  It is the feet of clay that make the gold of the image precious.  Her feet are very pretty, but they are not feet of clay.  White porcelain feet, if you like.  They have been through the fire, and what fire does not destroy, it hardens.  She has had experiences.”

“How long has she been married?” asked Dorian.

“An eternity, she tells me.  I believe, according to the peerage, it is ten years, but ten years with Monmouth must have been like eternity, with time thrown in.  Who else is coming?”

“Oh, the Willoughbys, Lord Rugby and his wife, our hostess,
Geoffrey Clouston, the usual set.  I have asked Lord Grotrian.”

“I like him,” said Lord Henry.  “A great many people don’t, but I find him charming.  He atones for being occasionally somewhat overdressed by being always absolutely over-educated.  He is a very modern type.”

“I don’t know if he will be able to come, Harry.  He may have to go to Monte Carlo with his father.”

“Ah! what a nuisance people’s people are!  Try and make him come.  By the way, Dorian, you ran off very early last night.  You left before eleven.  What did you do afterwards?  Did you go straight home?”

Dorian glanced at him hurriedly and frowned.

“No, Harry,” he said at last, “I did not get home till nearly three.”

“Did you go to the club?”

“Yes,” he answered.  Then he bit his lip.  “No, I don’t mean that.  I didn’t go to the club.  I walked about.  I forget what I did. . . .  How inquisitive you are, Harry!  You always want to know what one has been doing.  I always want to forget what I have been doing.  I came in at half-past two, if you wish to know the exact time.  I had left my latch-key at home, and my servant had to let me in.  If you want any corroborative evidence on the subject, you can ask him.”

Lord Henry shrugged his shoulders.  “My dear fellow, as if I cared! 
Let us go up to the drawing-room.  No sherry, thank you, Mr. Chapman. 
Something has happened to you, Dorian.  Tell me what it is. 
You are not yourself to-night.”

“Don’t mind me, Harry.  I am irritable, and out of temper. 
I shall come round and see you to-morrow, or next day. 
Make my excuses to Lady Narborough.  I shan’t go upstairs. 
I shall go home.  I must go home.”