Портрет Доріана Грея

           shespokethewordsasthoughtheyconveyednomeaningtoher. Itwasnotnervousness. Indeed,sofarfrombeingnervous,shewasabsolutelyself-contained. Itwassimplybadart.Shewasacompletefailure. 

           Eventhecommon,uneducatedaudienceofthepitandgallerylosttheirinterestintheplay. Theygotrestless,andbegantotalkloudlyandtowhistle. TheJewmanager,whowasstandingatthebackofthedress-circle,stampedandsworewithrage. Theonlypersonunmovedwasthegirlherself. 

           Whenthesecondactwasovertherecameastormofhisses,andLordHenrygotupfromhischairandputonhiscoat. "Sheisquitebeautiful,Dorian,"hesaid,"butshecan’tact.Letusgo." 

           "Iamgoingtoseetheplaythrough,"answeredthelad,inahard,bittervoice. "IamawfullysorrythatIhavemadeyouwasteanevening,Harry. Iapologisetoyouboth." 

           "MydearDorian,IshouldthinkMissVanewasill,"interruptedHallward. "Wewillcomesomeothernight." 

           "Iwishshewereill,"herejoined."Butsheseemstometobesimplycallousandcold.Shehasentirelyaltered. Lastnightshewasagreatartist. Thiseveningsheismerelyacommonplace,mediocreactress." 

           "Don’ttalklikethataboutanyoneyoulove,Dorian. LoveisamorewonderfulthingthanArt." 

           "Theyarebothsimplyformsofimitation,"remarkedLordHenry."Butdoletusgo.