that no man had ever seen.  After the performance was over, I went behind and spoke to her.  As we were sitting together, suddenly there came into her eyes a look that I had never seen there before.  My lips moved towards hers.  We kissed each other.  I can’t describe to you what I felt at that moment.  It seemed to me that all my life had been narrowed to one perfect point of rose-coloured joy.  She trembled all over and shook like a white narcissus.  Then she flung herself on her knees and kissed my hands.  I feel that I should not tell you all this, but I can’t help it.  Of course, our engagement is a dead secret.  She has not even told her own mother.  I don’t know what my guardians will say.  Lord Radley is sure to be furious.  I don’t care.  I shall be of age in less than a year, and then I can do what I like.  I have been right, Basil, haven’t I, to take my love out of poetry and to find my wife in Shakespeare’s plays?  Lips that Shakespeare taught to speak have whispered their secret in my ear.  I have had the arms of Rosalind around me, and kissed Juliet on the mouth.”

“Yes, Dorian, I suppose you were right,” said Hallward slowly.

“Have you seen her to-day?” asked Lord Henry.

Dorian Gray shook his head.  “I left her in the forest of Arden; I shall find her in an orchard in Verona.”

Lord Henry sipped his champagne in a meditative manner.  “At what particular point did you mention the word marriage, Dorian?  And what did she say in answer?  Perhaps you forgot all about it.”

“My dear Harry, I did not treat it as a business transaction, and I did not make any formal proposal.  I told her that I loved her, and she said she was not worthy to be my wife.  Not worthy!  Why, the whole world is nothing to me compared with her.”

“Women are wonderfully practical,” murmured Lord Henry, “much more practical than we are.  In situations of that kind we often forget to say anything about marriage, and they always remind us.”

Hallward laid his hand upon his arm.  “Don’t, Harry.  You have annoyed Dorian.  He is not like other men.  He would never bring misery upon any one.  His nature is too fine for that.”

Lord Henry looked across the table.  “Dorian is never annoyed with me,” he answered.  “I asked the question for the best reason possible, for the only reason, indeed, that excuses one for asking any question—­ simple curiosity.  I have a theory that it is always the women who propose to us, and not we who propose to the women.  Except, of course, in middle-class life.  But then the middle classes are not modern.”