Hello there and welcome to tonight's episode of Down to Sleep. This is the podcast of softly spoken

stories to help you get a good night's rest. Every week I read books to you to help you get

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Now take a nice deep breath for me, and let's get down to sleep.

The Picture of Dorian Gray, Chapter 12.

It was on the 9th of November, the eve of his own 38th birthday, as he often remembered afterwards.

He was walking home about 11 o'clock from Lord Henry's, where he had been dining, and was wrapped in heavy furs. The night was cold and foggy. At the corner of

Grovesnes Square in South Orderly Street, a man passed him in the mist, walking very fast

and with the collar of his great ulster turned up. He had a bag in his hand. Dorian recognized him. It was Basil

Hallward. A strange sense of fear for which he could not account came over him. He made

no sign of recognition and went on quickly in the direction of his own house. But Hallwood

had seen him. Dorian heard him first

stopping on the pavement and then hurrying after him. In a few moments, his hand was on his arm.

Dorian, what an extraordinary piece of luck. I've been waiting for you in your library ever since nine o'clock.

Finally, I took pity on your tired servant and told him to go to bed as he let me out.

I'm off to Paris by the midnight train, and I particularly wanted to see you before I left.

I thought it was you, or rather your fur coat as you passed me, but I wasn't quite sure.

Didn't you recognise me?

In this fog, my dear Basil, why I can't even recognise Groves in a Square, I believe my house is

somewhere about here, but I don't feel at all certain about it.

...