“In this fog, my dear Basil?  Why, I can’t even recognize Grosvenor Square.  I believe my house is somewhere about here, but I don’t feel at all certain about it.  I am sorry you are going away, as I have not seen you for ages.  But I suppose you will be back soon?”

“No:  I am going to be out of England for six months.  I intend [78] to take a studio in Paris, and shut myself up till I have finished a great picture I have in my head.  However, it wasn’t about myself I wanted to talk.  Here we are at your door.  Let me come in for a moment.  I have something to say to you.”

“I shall be charmed.  But won’t you miss your train?” said Dorian Gray, languidly, as he passed up the steps and opened the door with his latch-key.

The lamp-light struggled out through the fog, and Hallward looked at his watch.  “I have heaps of time,” he answered.  “The train doesn’t go till twelve-fifteen, and it is only just eleven.  In fact, I was on my way to the club to look for you, when I met you.  You see, I shan’t have any delay about luggage, as I have sent on my heavy things.  All I have with me is in this bag, and I can easily get to Victoria in twenty minutes.”

Dorian looked at him and smiled.  “What a way for a fashionable painter to travel!  A Gladstone bag, and an ulster!  Come in, or the fog will get into the house.  And mind you don’t talk about anything serious.  Nothing is serious nowadays.  At least nothing should be.”

Hallward shook his head, as he entered, and followed Dorian into the library.  There was a bright wood fire blazing in the large open hearth.  The lamps were lit, and an open Dutch silver spirit-case stood, with some siphons of soda-water and large cut-glass tumblers, on a little table.

“You see your servant made me quite at home, Dorian.  He gave me everything I wanted, including your best cigarettes.  He is a most hospitable creature.  I like him much better than the Frenchman you used to have.  What has become of the Frenchman, by the bye?”

Dorian shrugged his shoulders.  “I believe he married Lady Ashton’s maid, and has established her in Paris as an English dressmaker.  Anglomanie is very fashionable over there now, I hear.  It seems silly of the French, doesn’t it?  But—­do you know?—­he was not at all a bad servant.  I never liked him, but I had nothing to complain about.  One often imagines things that are quite absurd.  He was really very devoted to me, and seemed quite sorry when he went away.  Have another brandy-and-soda?  Or would you like hock-and-seltzer?  I always take hock-and-seltzer myself.  There is sure to be some in the next room.”

“Thanks, I won’t have anything more,” said Hallward, taking his cap and coat off, and throwing them on the bag that he had placed in the corner.  “And now, my dear fellow, I want to speak to you seriously.  Don’t frown like that.  You make it so much more difficult for me.”