Портрет Доріана Грея

           "Forgiveme,mother. Iknowitpainsyoutotalkaboutourfather. Butitonlypainsyoubecauseyoulovedhimsomuch.Don’tlooksosad. Iamashappyto-dayasyouweretwentyyearsago. Ah!letmebehappyforever!" 

           "Mychild,youarefartooyoungtothinkoffallinginlove. Besides,whatdoyouknowofthisyoungman?Youdon’tevenknowhisname. Thewholethingismostinconvenient,andreally,whenJamesisgoingawaytoAustralia,andIhavesomuchtothinkof,Imustsaythatyoushouldhaveshownmoreconsideration. However,asIsaidbefore,ifheisrich...." 

           "Ah!Mother,mother,letmebehappy!" 

           Mrs.Vaneglancedather,andwithoneofthosefalsetheatricalgesturesthatsooftenbecomeamodeofsecondnaturetoastage-player,claspedherinherarms. Atthismomentthedooropened,andayoungladwithroughbrownhaircameintotheroom.Hewasthick-setoffigure,andhishandsandfeetwerelarge,andsomewhatclumsyinmovement. Hewasnotsofinelybredashissister.Onewouldhardlyhaveguessedthecloserelationshipthatexistedbetweenthem. Mrs.Vanefixedhereyesonhim,andintensifiedthesmile.Shementallyelevatedhersontothedignityofanaudience. Shefeltsurethatthetableauwasinteresting. 

           "Youmightkeepsomeofyourkissesforme,Sibyl,Ithink,"saidthelad,withagood-naturedgrumble. 

           "Ah!butyoudon’tlikebeingkissed,Jim,"shecried. "Youareadreadfuloldbear."Andsheranacrosstheroomandhuggedhim. 

           JamesVanelookedintohissister’sfacewithtenderness. "Iwantyoutocomeoutwithmeforawalk,Sibyl. Idon’tsupposeIshalleverseethishorridLondonagain. IamsureIdon’twantto."