Портрет Доріана Грея

           Shewasextremelyannoyedatthetonehehadadoptedwithher,andtherewassomethinginhislookthathadmadeherfeelafraid. 

           "Kissme,mother,"saidthegirl.Herflower-likelipstouchedthewitheredcheek,andwarmeditsfrost. 

           "Mychild!mychild!"criedMrs.Vane,lookinguptotheceilinginsearchofanimaginarygallery. 

           "Come,Sibyl,"saidherbrother,impatiently.Hehatedhismother’saffectations. 

           Theywentoutintotheflickeringwind-blownsunlight,andstrolleddownthedrearyEustonRoad. Thepassers-byglancedinwonderatthesullen,heavyyouth,who,incoarse,ill-fittingclothes,wasinthecompanyofsuchagraceful,refined-lookinggirl. Hewaslikeacommongardenerwalkingwitharose. 

           Jimfrownedfromtimetotimewhenhecaughttheinquisitiveglanceofsomestranger. Hehadthatdislikeofbeingstaredatwhichcomesongeniuseslateinlife,andneverleavesthecommonplace. Sibyl,however,wasquiteunconsciousoftheeffectshewasproducing.Herlovewastremblinginlaughteronherlips. ShewasthinkingofPrinceCharming,and,thatshemightthinkofhimallthemore,shedidnottalkofhimbutprattledonabouttheshipinwhichJimwasgoingtosail, aboutthegoldhewascertaintofind,aboutthewonderfulheiresswhoselifehewastosavefromthewicked,red-shirtedbushrangers. Forhewasnottoremainasailor,orasuper-cargo,orwhateverhewasgoingtobe. Oh,no!Asailor’sexistencewasdreadful.