The curtains moved gently in the summer wind. The smell of flowers came in through the open window. And in the distance there was the faint noise of London traffic. It was very peaceful in the artist's studio.
Lord Henry Wotton was lying back in a large chair, smoking a cigarette. He was watching the blue smoke rise to the ceiling. And he was also watching his friend Basil Halloward, the artist. Basil was standing in front of a painting which was nearly finished. It was the portrait of a young man a very beautiful young man.
Basil and Lord Henry were good friends. They had studied at Oxford University together. Now they were both about thirty years old. Basil worked very hard and he was a well-known artist. Lord Henry, who was called Harry by his friends, did not work at a He was a rich man. He spent his money on expensive food and clothes, and on valuable books and paintings.
Lord Henry pointed towards the painting. "That is the best portrait you have ever painted, Basil,he said.
You must show it in the best art gallery in London, Lord enry continued. "Everybody must see it.
I am not going to show this picture in a gallery, Basil replied