his dreamy, heavy-lidded eyes. "I will go out to the garden with
you. It is horridly hot in the studio.--Basil, let us have something
iced to drink, something with strawberries in it."

"Certainly, Harry. Just touch the bell, and when Parker comes I will
tell him what you want. I have got to work up this background, so I
will join you later on. Don't keep Dorian too long. I have never
been in better form for painting than I am to-day. This is going to
be my masterpiece. It is my masterpiece as it stands."

Lord Henry went out to the garden, and found Dorian Gray burying his
face in the great cool lilac-blossoms, feverishly drinking in their
perfume as if it had been wine. He came close to him, and put his
hand upon his shoulder. "You are quite right to do that," he
murmured. "Nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing
can cure the senses but the soul."

The lad started and drew back. He was bareheaded, and the leaves had
tossed his rebellious curls and tangled all their gilded threads.
There was a look of fear in his eyes, such as people have when they
are suddenly awakened. His finely-chiselled nostrils quivered, and
some hidden nerve shook the scarlet of his lips and left them
trembling.

[16] "Yes," continued Lord Henry, "that is one of the great secrets
of life,-- to cure the soul by means of the senses, and the senses by
means of the soul. You are a wonderful creature. You know more than
you think you know, just as you know less than you want to know."

Dorian Gray frowned and turned his head away. He could not help