Портрет Дориана Грея

           "Therewillbenodifficulty,sir,"saidthegenialframe-maker,beginning,withtheaidofhisassistant,tounhookthepicturefromthelongbrasschainsbywhichitwassuspended. "And,now,whereshallwecarryitto,Mr.Gray?" 

           "Iwillshowyoutheway,Mr.Hubbard,ifyouwillkindlyfollowme. Orperhapsyouhadbettergoinfront. Iamafraiditisrightatthetopofthehouse. Wewillgoupbythefrontstaircase,asitiswider." 

           Heheldthedooropenforthem,andtheypassedoutintothehallandbegantheascent. Theelaboratecharacteroftheframehadmadethepictureextremelybulky,andnowandthen,inspiteoftheobsequiousprotestsofMr.Hubbard,whohadthetruetradesman’sspiriteddislikeofseeingagentlemandoinganythinguseful,Dorianputhishandtoitsoastohelpthem. 

           "Somethingofaloadtocarry,sir,"gaspedthelittleman,whentheyreachedthetoplanding. Andhewipedhisshinyforehead. 

           "Iamafraiditisratherheavy,"murmuredDorian,asheunlockedthedoorthatopenedintotheroom thatwastokeepforhimthecurioussecretofhislifeandhidehissoulfromtheeyesofmen. 

           Hehadnotenteredtheplaceformorethanfouryears —not,indeed,sincehehaduseditfirstasaplay-roomwhenhewasachild,andthenasastudywhenhegrewsomewhatolder. Itwasalarge,well-proportionedroom,whichhadbeenspeciallybuiltbythelastLordKelsofortheuseofthelittlegrandson whom,forhisstrangelikenesstohismother,andalsoforotherreasons,hehadalwayshatedanddesiredtokeepatadistance. ItappearedtoDoriantohavebutlittlechanged.