Chapter 8

It was long past noon when he awoke.

His valet had crept several times on tiptoe into the room to see if he was stirring,

and had wondered what made his young master sleep so late.

Finally, his bell sounded, and Victor came in softly with a cup of tea, and a pile of letters,

on a small tray of old China and drew back the olive

satin curtains with their shimmering blue lining that hung in front of the three

tall windows.

Most here has well slept this morning, he said smiling.

What o'clock is it Victor? asked Dorian Gray drowsily.

One hour and a quarter, Monsieur.

How late it was? He said. One hour and a quarter, Monsieur.

How late it was!

He sat up and having sipped some tea turned over his letters.

One of them was from Lord Henry and had been brought by hand that morning.

He hesitated for a moment and then put it aside.

The others he opened listlessly.

They contained the usual collection of cards, invitations to dinner, tickets for private views,

programs of charity concerts, and the like that are showered on fashionable young men every morning during

the season.

There was a rather heavy bill for a Chase Silver Louis Quinn's toilet set that he had not yet

had the courage to send on to his guardians, who were extremely old-fashioned people and did not realize

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