Портрет Доріана Грея

           "DearLadyNarborough,"murmuredDorian,smiling,"Ihavenotbeeninloveforawholeweek—not,infact,sinceMadamedeFerrollefttown." 

           "Howyoumencanfallinlovewiththatwoman!"exclaimedtheoldlady."Ireallycannotunderstandit." 

           "Itissimplybecausesheremembersyouwhenyouwerealittlegirl,LadyNarborough,"saidLordHenry. "Sheistheonelinkbetweenusandyourshortfrocks." 

           "Shedoesnotremembermyshortfrocksatall,LordHenry. ButIrememberherverywellatViennathirtyyearsago,andhowdécolletéeshewasthen." 

           "Sheisstilldécolletée,"heanswered,takinganoliveinhislongfingers; "andwhensheisinaverysmartgownshelookslikeanéditiondeluxeofabadFrenchnovel. Sheisreallywonderful,andfullofsurprises. Hercapacityforfamilyaffectionisextraordinary. Whenherthirdhusbanddied,herhairturnedquitegoldfromgrief." 

           "Howcanyou,Harry! "criedDorian. 

           "Itisamostromanticexplanation,"laughedthehostess. "Butherthirdhusband,LordHenry! Youdon’tmeantosayFerrolisthefourth." 

           "Certainly,LadyNarborough." 

           "Idon’tbelieveawordofit." 

           "Well,askMr.Gray.Heisoneofhermostintimatefriends." 

           "Isittrue,Mr.Gray?"