Chapter 2
As they ehey saw Dorian Gray. He was seated at the piano, with his back to them, turning over the pages of a volume of Schumanns "Forest Ses." "You must lehese, Basil," he cried. "I want to learhey are perfectly charming."
"That entirely depends on how you sit to-day, Dorian."
"Oh, I am tired of sitting, and I dont want a life-sized portrait of myself," answered the lad, swinging round on the music-stool in a wilful, petulant manner. When he caught sight of Lord Henry, a faint blush coloured his cheeks for a moment, aarted up. "I beg your pardon, Basil, but I didnt know you had any oh you."
"This is Lord Henry Wotton, Dorian, an old Oxford friend of mine. I have just been telling him what a capital sitter you were, and now you have spoiled everything."
"You have not spoiled my pleasure iing you, Mr. Gray," said Lord Henry, stepping forward aending his hand. "My aunt has often spoken to me about you. You are one of her favourites, and, I am afraid, one of her victims also."
"I am in Lady Agathas black books at present," answered Dorian with a funny look of penitence. "I promised to go to a club in Whitechapel with her last Tuesday, and I really fot all about it. We were to have played a duet together--three duets, I believe. I dont know what she will say to me. I am far thteo call."
"Oh, I will make your peace with my aunt. She is quite devoted to you. And I dont think it really matters about your not being there. The audience probably thought it was a duet. When Aunt Agatha sits down to the piano, she makes quite enough noise for two people."
"That is very horrid