Word is the only thing that we have

На основании Вашего запроса эти примеры могут содержать грубую лексику.

На основании Вашего запроса эти примеры могут содержать разговорную лексику.

Вот единственное

это единственные вещи

это единственное, что

это все, что

только это

Это — единственное, что

Это все, чего

это единственная вещь, которую

Up to now, this is the only thing that has stopped the Technomancers from getting rid of him.

До сих пор, это единственные вещи которые останавливали Техномансеров от избавления от него

And this is the only thing I really sorry.

This is what determines the economic growth, and this is the only thing that the press recognizes to him as a credit.

Именно этим обусловлен экономический рост, и это единственное, что пресса признаёт ему в заслугу.

But often this is the only thing between you and the bad guy.

And yet this is the only thing our bourgeois politicians see.

Humanity has to educate themselves, this is the only thing lacking.

For them, this is the only thing that seems impossible, unreasonable and contrary to all laws.

Для них это единственное, что кажется невозможным, необоснованным и противоречит всем возможным законам.

All series talk about how society responds to hypothetical new technologies — and this is the only thing that unites them together.

Все серии рассказывают о том, как общество реагирует на гипотетические новые технологии — и это единственное, что объединяет их между собой.

I really don’t like the ineffectiveness of negotiations — this is the only thing I’m anxious about.

There are times when you must meet force with force, for this is the only thing that force understands.

Существуют моменты, когда вы должны силой отве-тить на силу, ибо это единственное, что понимает сила.

The central element of this program is a diet — this is the only thing that you can take under your direct control.

Центральным элементом этой программы является диета — это единственное, что вы можете взять под свой непосредственный контроль.

Perhaps, this is the only thing that can be said about the effect of menstruation on lactation.

Пожалуй, это единственное, что можно сказать о влиянии месячных на лактацию.

Look, this is the only thing that is not crazy.

The problem is, this is the only thing I ever felt good doing.

Проблема в том, что мне всегда хотелось заниматься только боксом.

Everything we’ve been through, this is the only thing that makes sense now.

I mean, this is the only thing that makes any sense to me.

And this is the only thing I can’t understand.

Man, this is the only thing I could find.

Since this is the only thing that we still remain.

Ведь это всё, что у нас осталось.

For me, this is the only thing worth photographing in this room.

Ничего не найдено для этого значения.

Результатов: 345. Точных совпадений: 345. Затраченное время: 437 мс

Documents

Корпоративные решения

Спряжение

Синонимы

Корректор

Справка и о нас

Индекс слова: 1-300, 301-600, 601-900

Индекс выражения: 1-400, 401-800, 801-1200

Индекс фразы: 1-400, 401-800, 801-1200

Подтянуть английский язык помогает чтение в оригинале: так можно и словарный запас пополнить, и грамматику отработать. Однако часто возникает ситуация, когда все слова вроде и знакомы, но они как будто случайно оказались вместе. Вместе с руководителем онлайн-школы английского языка Wordika Вероникой Генераловой мы нашли самые необычные английские идиомы и разобрались, что они означают.

To be under the weather — Неважно себя чувствовать

Буквальный перевод: «быть под погодой».

Есть несколько версий происхождения выражения, но все они связаны с морем. В основе первой — особенности ведения бортового журнала: в нем капитан судна ежедневно отмечал погодные условия и состав команды корабля. Тех, кто не мог нести службу, записывали в специальную колонку. Во время шторма туда попадали и многочисленные страдальцы, сломленные морской болезнью. В ненастные дни эта секция часто переполнялась, поэтому моряков приходилось записывать в соседнюю колонку, в графу «Погода» (weather), то есть «under the weather».

Вторая версия связана с местом размещения больных моряков: во время качки всех, кому становилось плохо, отправляли «under the deck and away from the weather», то есть «под палубу, подальше от непогоды». Со временем из этой фразы выпали «палуба» и «подальше» — так появился современный вариант идиомы.

How did you know I was feeling so under the weather this evening? / Как ты узнал, что мне так нехорошо этим вечером?

Pot calling the kettle black — Кто бы говорил

Буквальный перевод: «горшок зовет котел черным (а сам не белее)».

Много лет назад люди готовили на открытом огне в чугунных горшках и медных котлах, после чего на них оставалась черная сажа. Медные котлы очищали и полировали после каждой готовки до блеска настолько, что стоящий рядом горшок отражался в нем, как в зеркале. Так и появилась идея о том, что горшок обвиняет чистый котел в нечистоплотности, хотя на самом деле именно он весь в саже.

Both game developers accuse each other for ripping their narratives: it’s like the pot calling the kettle black. / Оба разработчика игр обвиняют друг друга в плагиате сюжета, хотя чья бы корова мычала.

A hot potato — Щекотливый вопрос

Буквальный перевод: «горячая картошка».

Это выражение известно с середины XIX века и связано с другим фразеологизмом — «to drop like a hot potato» (стремительно от чего-либо избавиться). Ассоциация возникла на фоне того, как быстро из рук выскальзывает горячая картошка. Так словосочетание «hot potato» стало самостоятельно обозначать что-то не самое приятное, с чем хочется поскорее расправиться.

How will this crisis affect cinema production is a hot potato. / Как кризис повлияет на производство кино — щекотливый вопрос.

Cat got your tongue? — Язык проглотил?

Буквальный перевод: «кошка схватила тебя за язык?».

Изначально выражение звучало так: «Has the cat got your tongue?», позже его сократили до «Сat got your tongue». Точное происхождение выражения неизвестно, но есть несколько предположений.

Так, согласно первой версии, выражение пошло от плетки для наказания заключенных, которая по-английски называется «cat o’ nine tails» (буквально это можно перевести как «девятихвостая кошка»). Страх наказания этой плетью заставлял британских преступников держать язык за зубами.

Вторая версия отсылает к средневековой боязни ведьм и их верных спутников — черных котов. Поэтому, когда человек терял дар речи от удивления или шока, такую ситуацию сравнивали с проклятием, которое наложила чародейка явно не без помощи своего кота.

You could be more enthusiastic about the launch! Cat got your tongue? / Мог бы и порадоваться запуску проекта! Ты что, язык проглотил?

Neck of the woods — Трущобы, глушь

Буквальный перевод: «лесная шея».

Эта фраза характерна для американского английского. Впервые она появилась во времена колонистов, но варианты происхождения разнятся. По одной из версий, жители Нового Света старались максимально отстраниться от английских корней и использовали другие слова для обозначения привычных вещей: изначально «шеей» (а вернее, перешейком) называли узкий участок земли, окруженный с двух сторон водой. Американцы начали называть шеей еще и неширокую часть леса или пастбища, а позже и поселение, расположенное в такой местности.

Вторая версия связана с языком коренных американцев алгонкинов: их слово «naiack» означало «место» или «угол». Поселенцы могли перенять это выражение, но со временем его написание и произношение сблизилось с привычным англоязычным жителям Нового Света «neck».

Welcome to my neck of the woods. / Добро пожаловать в мою трущобу.

To go pear-shaped — Пойти наперекосяк

Буквальный перевод: «приобрести форму груши».

Одни лингвисты считают, что это выражение придумали пилоты Королевских военно-воздушных сил Великобритании в 1940-х годах: круги в воздухе — достаточно сложная фигура, поэтому часто вместо окружности у пилотов получалась груша. Другие полагают, что фразеологизм отсылает к Первой мировой войне: запуск воздушных шаров, использовавшихся в то время для наблюдения, шел наперекосяк, когда, надуваясь, они приобретали форму груши.

And when the main cast left, everything with the show went pear-shaped. / А когда основной актерский состав ушел, все в сериале пошло наперекосяк.

Blue in the face — До изнеможения

Буквальный перевод: «синее лицо».

Это выражение часто используется в описании разговоров и дискуссий. Фраза отсылает к ситуации, когда у непрерывно вещающего человека просто заканчивался воздух в легких и его лицо приобретало характерный синий оттенок.

She can talk about the history of feminism till she is blue in the face. / Она может говорить об истории феминизма до посинения.

Thick as thieves — Закадычные друзья

Буквальный перевод: «толстые, как воры».

Идиома появилась в начале XIX века и действительно имеет криминальное прошлое. В то время воры работали в бандах, и успех их планов зависел от уровня доверия внутри группировки, поэтому преступники знали друг о друге абсолютно все. Слово «thick» («толстый»), в данном случае означало «очень близкий», «тесно связанный». Изначально говорили «thick as two thieves», но позже числительное выпало, и получилось сегодняшнее выражение, которое означает близких друзей.

Hopper definitely knows Joyce’s whereabouts but he wouldn’t tell us anything — they are as thick as thieves. / Хоппер точно знает, где находится Джойс, но ничего не скажет: они закадычные друзья.

Wouldn’t touch it with a barge pole — Не приблизился бы и на километр

Буквальный перевод: «не стал бы трогать и баржевой палкой».

В XIX веке, когда многие баржи еще не могли плыть самостоятельно, люди использовали для их передвижения специальные толстые и длинные (около 3 м) палки или сучья. Они позволяли безбоязненно исследовать незнакомый или не очень презентабельный предмет, попадавшийся на пути следования, поэтому выражение стали использовать для обозначения чего-то особенно неприятного или опасного.

They don’t want any bad publicity, so they wouldn’t touch this influencer with a barge pole. / Им не нужны проблемы с репутацией, так что они и на километр не подойдут к этому блогеру.

Heart in one’s mouth — Сердце в пятки ушло

Буквальный перевод: «сердце во рту».

Считается, что впервые это выражение использовал Гомер в «Илиаде», чтобы передать чувство невероятного нервного напряжения. Древнегреческий поэт обратил внимание на ощущение, которое возникает в моменты страха и волнения: сердце бьется так часто, что вибрация начинает чувствоваться в горле.

When they told me my flight has been postponed, I had my heart in mouth. / Когда мне сказали, что мой рейс отложен, у меня сердце в пятки ушло.

Go bananas — Слететь с катушек

Буквальный перевод: «стать бананом».

Группа Little Big тут ни при чем. Историки и лингвисты полагают, что постарались студенты американских колледжей и обезьяны. Изначально существовал фразеологизм «go ape», который тоже означал сумасшествие и отсылал к образу обезьяны. Устойчивая ассоциация животных с их любимым лакомством в глазах американских студентов стала причиной изменения фразы.

Everybody went bananas when all the fitness clubs in the city opened again. / Все просто с катушек слетели, когда снова открылись все фитнес-клубы города.

Cool as a cucumber — Спокоен как удав

Буквальный перевод: «холодный, как огурец».

Даже в жару огурец обычно на несколько градусов холоднее воздуха — так и появилось сравнение хладнокровного человека, спокойного при любой ситуации, с плодом травянистого растения семейства тыквенных.

The passengers worried about possible speeding ticket, yet Victor was as cool as a cucumber. / Пассажиры переживали из-за возможного штрафа за превышение скорости, а Виктор все равно был спокоен как удав.

Опишите свое состояние одним словом. Игра «РБК Стиль». 

Наверное, никто не является автором большего количества цитат, чем английский писатель Оскар Уайльд. Цитаты этот писателя затрагивают все стороны жизни: есть о жизни, о дружбе, о любви, о работе, об обществе. Очень многие произведения Оскара Уайльда просто разобраны на цитаты.

Предлагаем вашему вниманию лучшие цитаты Оскара Уайльда на английском языке. Ко всем цитатам есть перевод на русский язык. Цитаты настолько разные, что, я думаю, каждый найдет среди этого множества строчки близкие только ему. Мне, например, понравились вот эти.

* * *

Quotes by Oscar Wilde (in English)

Time is a waste of money.

We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.

Always forgive your enemies, nothing annoys them so much.

Children begin by loving their parents; as they grow older they judge them; sometimes they forgive them.

Fashion is a form of ugliness so intolerable that we have to alter it every six months.

• Время — это пустая трата денег.
• Мы все в сточной канаве, но некоторые из нас смотрят на звезды.
• Всегда прощайте своих врагов, ничто не раздражает их больше.
• В начале дети любят своих родителей; потом, когда становятся старше, начинают судить их; иногда они их прощают.
• Мода — это форма безобразия и настолько невыносима, что мы должны менять ее каждые шесть месяцев.

 * * *

Оскар Уайльд. Цитаты на английском языке с переводом

Oscar Wilde. Quotes about life (in English)

Life is a nightmare that prevents one from sleeping.

I beg your pardon I didn’t recognise you — I’ve changed a lot.

There are only two tragedies in life: one is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it.

To be natural is such a very difficult pose to keep up.

Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.

Оскар Уайльд. Цитаты о жизни ( перевод на русский язык)

• Жизнь – это кошмар, который мешает нам спать.
• Я прошу прощения, что не узнал Вас – я сильно изменился.
• Наша жизнь заключает в себе только две трагедии. Первая состоит в том, что не можешь удовлетворить всех своих желаний, вторая – когда они уже все удовлетворены.
• Быть естественным – это поза, которую труднее всего удержать.
• Будь собою – все остальные роли уже заняты.

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Oscar Wilde. Quotes about soсiety (in English)

America had often been discovered before Columbus, but it had always been hushed up.

Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes.

The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about.

The public is wonderfully tolerent. It forgives everything except genuis.

Questions are never indiscreet, answers sometimes are.

Оскар Уайльд. Цитаты об обществе (перевод на русский язык)

• Америка не раз была обнаружена до Колумба, но это как всегда было замято.
• Опыт – это название, которое каждый дает своим ошибкам.
• Что бы о Вас ни говорили, хуже этого может быть только одно — когда о Вас Не говорят.
• Общество удивительно терпимо. Оно прощает все, кроме гениальности. (мой перевод)
• Вопросы никогда не бывают нескромными. В отличие от ответов.

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Oscar Wilde. Quotes about friendship (in English)

Anybody can sympathize with the sufferings of a friend, but it requires a very fine nature to sympathize with a friend’s success.

I don’t want to go to heaven. None of my friends are there.

Оскар Уайльд. Цитаты о дружбе (перевод на русский язык)

• Все сочувствуют несчастьям своих друзей, и лишь немногие радуются их успехам.
• Я не хочу отправиться на небеса, там нет моих друзей.

Oscar Wilde. Quotes about people (in English)

If you want to tell people the truth, make them laugh, otherwise they’ll kill you.

Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.

Most people are other people. Their thoughts are someone else`s opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.

One can always be kind to people about whom one cares nothing.

Selfishness is not living as one wishes to live, it is asking others to live as one wishes to live.

Some things are more precious because they don’t last long.

It is so easy to convince others; it is so difficult to convince oneself.

Оскар Уайльд. Цитаты о людях ( перевод на русский язык)

• Если вы хотите рассказать людям правду, то заставьте их смеяться, иначе они убьют вас.
• Человек больше всего лукавит, когда говорит от своего лица. Дайте ему маску, и он скажет вам правду.
• Большинство из нас -это не мы. Наши мысли – это чужие суждения; наша жизнь – подражание кому-либо, наши страсти – копирование  чужих страстей.
• Я всегда очень дружески отношусь к тем, до кого мне нет дела.
• Быть эгоистом – это не значит жить, как тебе хочется. Это значит просить других, чтобы они жили так как тебе бы хотелось.
• Некоторые вещи ценны только потому, что недолговечны. (перевод авт.)
• Легко убедить других, себя убедить гораздо труднее.

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Oscar Wilde. Quotes about work (in English)

It is awfully hard work doing nothing.

Work is the refuge of people who have nothing better to do.

Оскар Уайльд. О работе (перевод на русский язык)

• Это ужасно тяжелая работа – ничего не делать.
• Работа – прибежище тех, кто больше ничего не умеет. (или более точный перевод Работа — это спасение тех, кому нечем больше заняться.)

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Oscar Wilde. Quotes about myself (in English)

I suppose that I shall have to die beyond my means.

I can resist anything but temptation.

I am not young enough to know everything.

Whenever people agree with me I always feel I must be wrong.

I have nothing to declare except my genius.

I have the simplest tastes. I am always satisfied with the best.

To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.

I never put off till tomorrow what I can possibly do — the day after.

I like talking to a brick wall- it’s the only thing in the world that never contradicts me!

I adore simple pleasures. They are the last refuge of the complex.

Оскар Уайльд. О себе (перевод на русский язык)

• Я полагаю, что мне придется умирать не по средствам. (мой перевод)
• Я могу сопротивляться всему, кроме искушения.
• Я не настолько молод, чтобы знать все. (мой перевод)
• Всякий раз, когда люди соглашаются со мной, я чувствую, что я не прав.
• Мне нечего декларировать, кроме своей гениальности. (слова О. Уайльда на таможне)
• Я непривередлив: мне вполне достаточно самого лучшего.
• Любовь к себе это начало романа, который длится всю жизнь.
• Я никогда не откладываю на завтра, то что могу сделать послезавтра.
• Я люблю разговаривать с кирпичной стеной – это единственный собеседник, который со мной не спорит. (мой перевод)
• Обожаю простые удовольствия. Это последнее прибежище сложных натур.

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Oscar Wilde. Quotes about love (in English)

Women love us for our defects. If we have enough of them, they will forgive us everything, even our intellects.

Women are meant to be loved, not to be understood.

Men always want to be a woman’s first love. That is their clumsy vanity. We women have a more subtle instinct about these things. What women like is to be a man’s last romance.

Men marry because they are tired, women, because they are curious: both are disappointed. (From «The Picture of Dorian Gray»)

One should always be in love. That’s the reason one should never marry

The most terrible thing about it is not that it breaks one’s heart—hearts are made to be broken—but that it turns one’s heart to stone.

We women, as some one says, love with our ears, just as you men love with your eyes..

I am happy in my prison of passion.

Woman begins by resisting a man’s advances and ends by blocking his retreat.

Оскар Уайльд. О любви (перевод на русский язык)

• Женщины любят нас за наши недостатки. Если этих недостатков изрядное количество, они готовы простить нам все, даже ум.
• Женщины созданы для того, чтобы их любили, а не для того чтобы их понимали.
• Мужчина всегда хочет быть первой любовью женщины. Женщины более чутки в таких вопросах. Им хотелось бы стать последней любовью мужчины.
• Мужчины женятся от усталости, женщины выходят замуж из любопытства. И те и другие разочаровываются.
• Надо всегда быть влюбленным. Вот почему никогда не следует жениться.
• Самое ужасное происходит не тогда, когда сердце разбито – сердца созданы для этого – а когда сердце превращается в камень. (мой перевод)
• Женщина любит ушами, а мужчина глазами.
• Я счастлив в тюрьме моих страстей.
• Сначала женщина сопротивляется мужчине. Однако все заканчивается тем, что она не хочет, чтобы он уходил.

---

Oscar Wilde. Quotes about wine (in English)

I drink to separate my body from my soul.

Оскар Уайльд. О вине  (перевод на русский язык)

• Я пью, чтобы отделить тело от души.

 * * *

Решила написать эту статью, так как не смогла найти на просторах интернета сайта, где были бы цитаты с переводом. Надеюсь, что она окажется полезной  как изучающим английский язык, так и любителям афоризмов. Не забудьте поделиться с друзьями))

History is the study of the past, with special attention to the written record of the activities of human beings over time. But the question lies whether history is relevant or not and if it really is then what is its importance. Hence arise numerous perspectives leading onto conflicting emotions as a result of an effort of justifying individual reasoning.
Do we learn nothing from history? All the tales and stories of past kings, countries, cultures, religions, etc, do they give us accurate knowledge from which one may be able to learn something? In my personal opinion I think so. Even though history is not always proved, it does have its perspective of its own from which a knower may learn from whether they are in reality learning of the whole truth or not. Learning can be in any form, good or bad, for the positive or negative, it is all a part of learning. For example in 1912 the ocean liner Titanic was considered the safest ship afloat but hit an iceberg and sank on its first voyage. This gives out a clear message that nothing in this world can be really relied on completely as everything in the world has its drawbacks may it be the safest ship in the world or anything else. Based on this example another reasoning can also be drawn; if this event would not have occured there would probably not have been any major technological advancement in the nautical industry of the world, no improvement in ships for instance would take place.
Another thing we learn from history is not to make the stupid mistakes that generations before us have made. However this generalization may aslo be refuted with another:
For example, governments repeat the same mistakes every time. Britain built an empire, colonised half the world at one time, and so did the Nazis. Politics is the same mistakes repeating themselves. Sometimes they get away with it, sometimes they don’t. It is no longer countries that seek Empires but ideals. Thereby, it may be argued that if we learned from History, these ideals would never have been allowed to enter our world.
Even a simple social issue may be essential. The Bra Burning movement: In the late 1960s, some of the emblems of femininity became targets of feminist activism. Feminists charged that these objects, typified as patriarchal, reduced women to the status of sex objects. Some women publicly disavowed bras in an anti-sexist act of female liberation. As a result of this movement the women of the world have been released (though not completely) from the clutches of sex discrimination. History hence is a boon her,e as educated human beings learn to respect the opposite sex.
However, it should be realised that what is important to learn from history is more important than what we individually want to perceive. That is the reason why the question of for and against comes up because we as knowers have not realized what should be true and what should not. It’s not that we DO learn from or mistakes, it’s that we SHOULD learn from our mistakes. If we don’t learn from the mistakes of the past it will happen again. The world has blindly derived something out of nothing and thus does not not know what to be considered as a lesson from history and what a boon.

Memories broken, the truth goes unspoken

I’ve even forgotten my name!

I don’t know the season, or what is the reason

I’m standing here holding my blade!

A desolate place (PLACE!)

Without any trace (TRACE!)

It’s only the cold wind I feel

It’s me that I spite as I stand up and fight

The only thing I know for real

Источник teksty-pesenok.ru

There will be BLOOD! SHED!

The man in the mirror nods his head

The only ONE! LEFT! will ride upon the dragon’s back

Because the mountains don’t give back what they take

Oh no, there will be BLOOD! SHED!

It’s the only thing I’ve ever known

Losing my identity, wondering have I gone insane?

To find the truth in front of me, I must climb this mountain range

Looking downward from this deadly height

And never realizing why I fight

Воспоминания сломаны, правда осталась невысказанной

Я даже свое имя забыл!

Я не знаю времени года, или в чём же причина

Я стою здесь, держа свой клинок!

Пустынное место (МЕСТО!)

Без каких-либо следов (СЛЕДОВ!)

Я чувствую только холодный ветер

Это я, что назло всем встаёт и сражается

Единственное, что я действительно знаю

Источник teksty-pesenok.ru

Здесь будет КРОВО! ПРОЛИТИЕ!

Человек в зеркале кивает головой

Только ОДИН! ОСТАНЕТСЯ! будет ездить на спине дракона

Потому что горы не возвращают, то что они берут

О нет, здесь будет КРОВО! ПРОЛИТИЕ!

Это единственная вещь, которую я когда-либо знал

Теряю свою личность, интересно, я сошел с ума?

Для того, чтобы найти истину у себя под носом, я должен забраться на этот горный хребет

Глядя вниз c этой смертельной высоты

И не понимая, зачем я сражаюсь

Phi

Senior Member

• #1

Which one is grammatically correct?

1. We have

only

a piece of bread to eat for lunch.

2. We

only

have a piece of bread to eat for lunch.

• #2

They sounds good to me. But I would say as follows;
1. We have only a piece of bread to eat for lunch.
2. What we only have is a piece of bread to eat for lunch.

• #3

Although «What we only have is a piece of bread to eat for lunch» doesn’t violate any rules of English grammar, I don’t think any native speaker would say it, few would write it unless they were deliberately trying to be complicated or difficult to understand, and teachers of English writing would criticize it as bad style.

There is not much difference between

«We have only a piece of bread . . .» and
«We only have a piece of bread . . .»

There are circumstances in which the placement of «only» would make a difference, but this isn’t one of them.

Phi

Senior Member

• #4

There are circumstances in which the placement of «only» would make a difference, but this isn’t one of them.

May I know those circumstances? They would help me a lot.

• #5

I was thinking of a situation in which «we only <verb>» is meant to differentiate from some other verb or from both having and some other verb.

«We heard only crickets.» We didn’t hear any other animals.

«We only heard the crickets.» We didn’t see any. In this case, it would be helpful to the reader to specify that: «We only heard the crickets, we didn’t see them.»

Teiresias

Member

English—American, North Central

• #6

Adverbs like to move around in the sentence. I would venture to say no difference with «only have» and «have only» in most cases. If someone said, «Well, you have several girlfriends.» The person spoken to might reply, «I have only one girlfriend»; thereby putting more emphasis on the word one. The more common expression would be «I only have one girlfriend.»

Last edited by a moderator: Aug 1, 2011

• #7

In ordinary speech, Americans tend to play fast and loose with «only», and «I only watch one TV show» would generally be taken to mean that the speaker watches one show and no others. Literally, though, it means «watching one TV show is the only thing I do»—which is of course not intended and is silly. Properly, the way to say that is: «I watch only one TV show.»

The reason is that «only», grammatically, applies to the thing it immediately precedes. So to be on the safe side in all situations, the best rule is to place «only» just before the word to which you mean it to apply. In the above case, you mean «only one», so that’s where to put it.

       As they entered they saw Dorian Gray. He was seated at the piano, with his back to them, turning over the pages of a volume of Schumann’s «Forest Scenes.» «You must lend me these, Basil,» he cried. «I want to learn them. They are perfectly charming.»

       «That entirely depends on how you sit to-day, Dorian.»

       «Oh, I am tired of sitting, and I don’t want a life-sized portrait of myself,» answered the lad, swinging round on the music-stool in a wilful, petulant manner. When he caught sight of Lord Henry, a faint blush coloured his cheeks for a moment, and he started up. «I beg your pardon, Basil, but I didn’t know you had any one with you.»

       «This is Lord Henry Wotton, Dorian, an old Oxford friend of mine. I have just been telling him what a capital sitter you were, and now you have spoiled everything.»

       «You have not spoiled my pleasure in meeting you, Mr. Gray,» said Lord Henry, stepping forward and extending his hand. «My aunt has often spoken to me about you. You are one of her favourites, and, I am afraid, one of her victims also.»

       «I am in Lady Agatha’s black books at present,» answered Dorian with a funny look of penitence. «I promised to go to a club in Whitechapel with her last Tuesday, and I really forgot all about it. We were to have played a duet together—three duets, I believe. I don’t know what she will say to me. I am far too frightened to call.»

       «Oh, I will make your peace with my aunt. She is quite devoted to you. And I don’t think it really matters about your not being there. The audience probably thought it was a duet. When Aunt Agatha sits down to the piano, she makes quite enough noise for two people.«

       «That is very horrid to her, and not very nice to me,» answered Dorian, laughing.

       Lord Henry looked at him. Yes, he was certainly wonderfully handsome, with his finely curved scarlet lips, his frank blue eyes, his crisp gold hair. There was something in his face that made one trust him at once. All the candour of youth was there, as well as all youth’s passionate purity. One felt that he had kept himself unspotted from the world. No wonder Basil Hallward worshipped him.

       «You are too charming to go in for philanthropy, Mr. Gray—far too charming.» And Lord Henry flung himself down on the divan and opened his cigarette-case.

       The painter had been busy mixing his colours and getting his brushes ready. He was looking worried, and when he heard Lord Henry’s last remark, he glanced at him, hesitated for a moment, and then said, «Harry, I want to finish this picture to-day. Would you think it awfully rude of me if I asked you to go away?»

       Lord Henry smiled and looked at Dorian Gray. «Am I to go, Mr. Gray?» he asked.

       «Oh, please don’t, Lord Henry. I see that Basil is in one of his sulky moods, and I can’t bear him when he sulks. Besides, I want you to tell me why I should not go in for philanthropy.»

       «I don’t know that I shall tell you that, Mr. Gray. It is so tedious a subject that one would have to talk seriously about it. But I certainly shall not run away, now that you have asked me to stop. You don’t really mind, Basil, do you? You have often told me that you liked your sitters to have some one to chat to.»

       Hallward bit his lip. «If Dorian wishes it, of course you must stay. Dorian’s whims are laws to everybody, except himself.»

       Lord Henry took up his hat and gloves. «You are very pressing, Basil, but I am afraid I must go. I have promised to meet a man at the Orleans. Good-bye, Mr. Gray. Come and see me some afternoon in Curzon Street. I am nearly always at home at five o’clock. Write to me when you are coming. I should be sorry to miss you.»

       «Basil,» cried Dorian Gray, «if Lord Henry Wotton goes, I shall go, too. You never open your lips while you are painting, and it is horribly dull standing on a platform and trying to look pleasant. Ask him to stay. I insist upon it.»

       «Stay, Harry, to oblige Dorian, and to oblige me,» said Hallward, gazing intently at his picture. «It is quite true, I never talk when I am working, and never listen either, and it must be dreadfully tedious for my unfortunate sitters. I beg you to stay.»

       «But what about my man at the Orleans?»

       The painter laughed. «I don’t think there will be any difficulty about that. Sit down again, Harry. And now, Dorian, get up on the platform, and don’t move about too much, or pay any attention to what Lord Henry says. He has a very bad influence over all his friends, with the single exception of myself.»

       Dorian Gray stepped up on the dais with the air of a young Greek martyr, and made a little moue of discontent to Lord Henry, to whom he had rather taken a fancy. He was so unlike Basil. They made a delightful contrast. And he had such a beautiful voice. After a few moments he said to him, «Have you really a very bad influence, Lord Henry? As bad as Basil says?»

       «There is no such thing as a good influence, Mr. Gray. All influence is immoral—immoral from the scientific point of view.»

       «Why?»

       «Because to influence a person is to give him one’s own soul. He does not think his natural thoughts, or burn with his natural passions. His virtues are not real to him. His sins, if there are such things as sins, are borrowed. He becomes an echo of some one else’s music, an actor of a part that has not been written for him. The aim of life is self-development. To realize one’s nature perfectly—that is what each of us is here for. People are afraid of themselves, nowadays. They have forgotten the highest of all duties, the duty that one owes to one’s self. Of course, they are charitable. They feed the hungry and clothe the beggar. But their own souls starve, and are naked. Courage has gone out of our race. Perhaps we never really had it. The terror of society, which is the basis of morals, the terror of God, which is the secret of religion—these are the two things that govern us. And yet—«

       «Just turn your head a little more to the right, Dorian, like a good boy,» said the painter, deep in his work and conscious only that a look had come into the lad’s face that he had never seen there before.

       «And yet,» continued Lord Henry, in his low, musical voice, and with that graceful wave of the hand that was always so characteristic of him, and that he had even in his Eton days, «I believe that if one man were to live out his life fully and completely, were to give form to every feeling, expression to every thought, reality to every dream—I believe that the world would gain such a fresh impulse of joy that we would forget all the maladies of mediaevalism, and return to the Hellenic ideal—to something finer, richer than the Hellenic ideal, it may be. But the bravest man amongst us is afraid of himself. The mutilation of the savage has its tragic survival in the self-denial that mars our lives. We are punished for our refusals. Every impulse that we strive to strangle broods in the mind and poisons us. The body sins once, and has done with its sin, for action is a mode of purification. Nothing remains then but the recollection of a pleasure, or the luxury of a regret. The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself, with desire for what its monstrous laws have made monstrous and unlawful. It has been said that the great events of the world take place in the brain. It is in the brain, and the brain only, that the great sins of the world take place also. You, Mr. Gray, you yourself, with your rose-red youth and your rose-white boyhood, you have had passions that have made you afraid, thoughts that have filled you with terror, day-dreams and sleeping dreams whose mere memory might stain your cheek with shame—«

       «Stop!» faltered Dorian Gray, «stop! you bewilder me. I don’t know what to say. There is some answer to you, but I cannot find it. Don’t speak. Let me think. Or, rather, let me try not to think.»

       For nearly ten minutes he stood there, motionless, with parted lips and eyes strangely bright. He was dimly conscious that entirely fresh influences were at work within him. Yet they seemed to him to have come really from himself. The few words that Basil’s friend had said to him—words spoken by chance, no doubt, and with wilful paradox in them—had touched some secret chord that had never been touched before, but that he felt was now vibrating and throbbing to curious pulses.

       Music had stirred him like that. Music had troubled him many times. But music was not articulate. It was not a new world, but rather another chaos, that it created in us. Words! Mere words! How terrible they were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! One could not escape from them. And yet what a subtle magic there was in them! They seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things, and to have a music of their own as sweet as that of viol or of lute. Mere words! Was there anything so real as words?

       Yes; there had been things in his boyhood that he had not understood. He understood them now. Life suddenly became fiery-coloured to him. It seemed to him that he had been walking in fire. Why had he not known it?

       With his subtle smile, Lord Henry watched him. He knew the precise psychological moment when to say nothing. He felt intensely interested. He was amazed at the sudden impression that his words had produced, and, remembering a book that he had read when he was sixteen, a book which had revealed to him much that he had not known before, he wondered whether Dorian Gray was passing through a similar experience. He had merely shot an arrow into the air. Had it hit the mark? How fascinating the lad was!

       Hallward painted away with that marvellous bold touch of his, that had the true refinement and perfect delicacy that in art, at any rate comes only from strength. He was unconscious of the silence.

       «Basil, I am tired of standing,» cried Dorian Gray suddenly. «I must go out and sit in the garden. The air is stifling here.»

       «My dear fellow, I am so sorry. When I am painting, I can’t think of anything else. But you never sat better. You were perfectly still. And I have caught the effect I wanted—the half-parted lips and the bright look in the eyes. I don’t know what Harry has been saying to you, but he has certainly made you have the most wonderful expression. I suppose he has been paying you compliments. You mustn’t believe a word that he says.»

       «He has certainly not been paying me compliments. Perhaps that is the reason that I don’t believe anything he has told me.»

       «You know you believe it all,» said Lord Henry, looking at him with his dreamy languorous eyes. «I will go out to the garden with you. It is horribly hot in the studio. Basil, let us have something iced to drink, something with strawberries in it.»

       «Certainly, Harry. Just touch the bell, and when Parker comes I will tell him what you want. I have got to work up this background, so I will join you later on. Don’t keep Dorian too long. I have never been in better form for painting than I am to-day. This is going to be my masterpiece. It is my masterpiece as it stands.»

       Lord Henry went out to the garden and found Dorian Gray burying his face in the great cool lilac-blossoms, feverishly drinking in their perfume as if it had been wine. He came close to him and put his hand upon his shoulder. «You are quite right to do that,» he murmured. «Nothing can cure the soul but the senses, just as nothing can cure the senses but the soul.»

       The lad started and drew back. He was bareheaded, and the leaves had tossed his rebellious curls and tangled all their gilded threads. There was a look of fear in his eyes, such as people have when they are suddenly awakened. His finely chiselled nostrils quivered, and some hidden nerve shook the scarlet of his lips and left them trembling.

       «Yes,» continued Lord Henry, «that is one of the great secrets of life—to cure the soul by means of the senses, and the senses by means of the soul. You are a wonderful creation. You know more than you think you know, just as you know less than you want to know.»

       Dorian Gray frowned and turned his head away. He could not help liking the tall, graceful young man who was standing by him. His romantic, olive-coloured face and worn expression interested him. There was something in his low languid voice that was absolutely fascinating. His cool, white, flowerlike hands, even, had a curious charm. They moved, as he spoke, like music, and seemed to have a language of their own. But he felt afraid of him, and ashamed of being afraid. Why had it been left for a stranger to reveal him to himself? He had known Basil Hallward for months, but the friendship between them had never altered him. Suddenly there had come some one across his life who seemed to have disclosed to him life’s mystery. And, yet, what was there to be afraid of? He was not a schoolboy or a girl. It was absurd to be frightened.

       «Let us go and sit in the shade,» said Lord Henry. «Parker has brought out the drinks, and if you stay any longer in this glare, you will be quite spoiled, and Basil will never paint you again. You really must not allow yourself to become sunburnt. It would be unbecoming.»

       «What can it matter?» cried Dorian Gray, laughing, as he sat down on the seat at the end of the garden.

       «It should matter everything to you, Mr. Gray.»

       «Why?»

       «Because you have the most marvellous youth, and youth is the one thing worth having.»

        «I don’t feel that, Lord Henry.»

       «No, you don’t feel it now. Some day, when you are old and wrinkled and ugly, when thought has seared your forehead with its lines, and passion branded your lips with its hideous fires, you will feel it, you will feel it terribly. Now, wherever you go, you charm the world. Will it always be so? … You have a wonderfully beautiful face, Mr. Gray. Don’t frown. You have. And beauty is a form of genius—is higher, indeed, than genius, as it needs no explanation. It is of the great facts of the world, like sunlight, or spring-time, or the reflection in dark waters of that silver shell we call the moon. It cannot be questioned. It has its divine right of sovereignty. It makes princes of those who have it. You smile? Ah! when you have lost it you won’t smile…. People say sometimes that beauty is only superficial. That may be so, but at least it is not so superficial as thought is. To me, beauty is the wonder of wonders. It is only shallow people who do not judge by appearances. The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible…. Yes, Mr. Gray, the gods have been good to you. But what the gods give they quickly take away. You have only a few years in which to live really, perfectly, and fully. When your youth goes, your beauty will go with it, and then you will suddenly discover that there are no triumphs left for you, or have to content yourself with those mean triumphs that the memory of your past will make more bitter than defeats. Every month as it wanes brings you nearer to something dreadful. Time is jealous of you, and wars against your lilies and your roses. You will become sallow, and hollow-cheeked, and dull-eyed. You will suffer horribly…. Ah! realize your youth while you have it. Don’t squander the gold of your days, listening to the tedious, trying to improve the hopeless failure, or giving away your life to the ignorant, the common, and the vulgar. These are the sickly aims, the false ideals, of our age. Live! Live the wonderful life that is in you! Let nothing be lost upon you. Be always searching for new sensations. Be afraid of nothing…. A new Hedonism—that is what our century wants. You might be its visible symbol. With your personality there is nothing you could not do. The world belongs to you for a season…. The moment I met you I saw that you were quite unconscious of what you really are, of what you really might be. There was so much in you that charmed me that I felt I must tell you something about yourself. I thought how tragic it would be if you were wasted. For there is such a little time that your youth will last—such a little time. The common hill-flowers wither, but they blossom again. The laburnum will be as yellow next June as it is now. In a month there will be purple stars on the clematis, and year after year the green night of its leaves will hold its purple stars. But we never get back our youth. The pulse of joy that beats in us at twenty becomes sluggish. Our limbs fail, our senses rot. We degenerate into hideous puppets, haunted by the memory of the passions of which we were too much afraid, and the exquisite temptations that we had not the courage to yield to. Youth! Youth! There is absolutely nothing in the world but youth!»

       Dorian Gray listened, open-eyed and wondering. The spray of lilac fell from his hand upon the gravel. A furry bee came and buzzed round it for a moment. Then it began to scramble all over the oval stellated globe of the tiny blossoms. He watched it with that strange interest in trivial things that we try to develop when things of high import make us afraid, or when we are stirred by some new emotion for which we cannot find expression, or when some thought that terrifies us lays sudden siege to the brain and calls on us to yield. After a time the bee flew away. He saw it creeping into the stained trumpet of a Tyrian convolvulus. The flower seemed to quiver, and then swayed gently to and fro.

       Suddenly the painter appeared at the door of the studio and made staccato signs for them to come in. They turned to each other and smiled.

       «I am waiting,» he cried. «Do come in. The light is quite perfect, and you can bring your drinks.»

       They rose up and sauntered down the walk together. Two green-and-white butterflies fluttered past them, and in the pear-tree at the corner of the garden a thrush began to sing.

       «You are glad you have met me, Mr. Gray,» said Lord Henry, looking at him.

       «Yes, I am glad now. I wonder shall I always be glad?»

       «Always! That is a dreadful word. It makes me shudder when I hear it. Women are so fond of using it. They spoil every romance by trying to make it last for ever. It is a meaningless word, too. The only difference between a caprice and a lifelong passion is that the caprice lasts a little longer.»

       As they entered the studio, Dorian Gray put his hand upon Lord Henry’s arm. «In that case, let our friendship be a caprice,» he murmured, flushing at his own boldness, then stepped up on the platform and resumed his pose.

       Lord Henry flung himself into a large wicker arm-chair and watched him. The sweep and dash of the brush on the canvas made the only sound that broke the stillness, except when, now and then, Hallward stepped back to look at his work from a distance. In the slanting beams that streamed through the open doorway the dust danced and was golden. The heavy scent of the roses seemed to brood over everything.

       After about a quarter of an hour Hallward stopped painting, looked for a long time at Dorian Gray, and then for a long time at the picture, biting the end of one of his huge brushes and frowning. «It is quite finished,» he cried at last, and stooping down he wrote his name in long vermilion letters on the left-hand corner of the canvas.

       Lord Henry came over and examined the picture. It was certainly a wonderful work of art, and a wonderful likeness as well.

       «My dear fellow, I congratulate you most warmly,» he said. «It is the finest portrait of modern times. Mr. Gray, come over and look at yourself.»

       The lad started, as if awakened from some dream.

       «Is it really finished?» he murmured, stepping down from the platform.

       «Quite finished,» said the painter. «And you have sat splendidly to-day. I am awfully obliged to you.»

       «That is entirely due to me,» broke in Lord Henry. «Isn’t it, Mr. Gray?»

       Dorian made no answer, but passed listlessly in front of his picture and turned towards it. When he saw it he drew back, and his cheeks flushed for a moment with pleasure. A look of joy came into his eyes, as if he had recognized himself for the first time. He stood there motionless and in wonder, dimly conscious that Hallward was speaking to him, but not catching the meaning of his words. The sense of his own beauty came on him like a revelation. He had never felt it before. Basil Hallward’s compliments had seemed to him to be merely the charming exaggeration of friendship. He had listened to them, laughed at them, forgotten them. They had not influenced his nature. Then had come Lord Henry Wotton with his strange panegyric on youth, his terrible warning of its brevity. That had stirred him at the time, and now, as he stood gazing at the shadow of his own loveliness, the full reality of the description flashed across him. Yes, there would be a day when his face would be wrinkled and wizen, his eyes dim and colourless, the grace of his figure broken and deformed. The scarlet would pass away from his lips and the gold steal from his hair. The life that was to make his soul would mar his body. He would become dreadful, hideous, and uncouth.

       As he thought of it, a sharp pang of pain struck through him like a knife and made each delicate fibre of his nature quiver. His eyes deepened into amethyst, and across them came a mist of tears. He felt as if a hand of ice had been laid upon his heart.

       «Don’t you like it?» cried Hallward at last, stung a little by the lad’s silence, not understanding what it meant.

       «Of course he likes it,» said Lord Henry. «Who wouldn’t like it? It is one of the greatest things in modern art. I will give you anything you like to ask for it. I must have it.»

       «It is not my property, Harry.»

       «Whose property is it?»

       «Dorian’s, of course,» answered the painter.

       «He is a very lucky fellow.»

       «How sad it is!» murmured Dorian Gray with his eyes still fixed upon his own portrait. «How sad it is! I shall grow old, and horrible, and dreadful. But this picture will remain always young. It will never be older than this particular day of June…. If it were only the other way! If it were I who was to be always young, and the picture that was to grow old! For that—for that—I would give everything! Yes, there is nothing in the whole world I would not give! I would give my soul for that!»

       «You would hardly care for such an arrangement, Basil,» cried Lord Henry, laughing. «It would be rather hard lines on your work.»

       «I should object very strongly, Harry,» said Hallward.

       Dorian Gray turned and looked at him. «I believe you would, Basil. You like your art better than your friends. I am no more to you than a green bronze figure. Hardly as much, I dare say.»

       The painter stared in amazement. It was so unlike Dorian to speak like that. What had happened? He seemed quite angry. His face was flushed and his cheeks burning.

       «Yes,» he continued, «I am less to you than your ivory Hermes or your silver Faun. You will like them always. How long will you like me? Till I have my first wrinkle, I suppose. I know, now, that when one loses one’s good looks, whatever they may be, one loses everything. Your picture has taught me that. Lord Henry Wotton is perfectly right. Youth is the only thing worth having. When I find that I am growing old, I shall kill myself.»

       Hallward turned pale and caught his hand. «Dorian! Dorian!» he cried, «don’t talk like that. I have never had such a friend as you, and I shall never have such another. You are not jealous of material things, are you?—you who are finer than any of them!»

       «I am jealous of everything whose beauty does not die. I am jealous of the portrait you have painted of me. Why should it keep what I must lose? Every moment that passes takes something from me and gives something to it. Oh, if it were only the other way! If the picture could change, and I could be always what I am now! Why did you paint it? It will mock me some day—mock me horribly!» The hot tears welled into his eyes; he tore his hand away and, flinging himself on the divan, he buried his face in the cushions, as though he was praying.

       «This is your doing, Harry,» said the painter bitterly.

       Lord Henry shrugged his shoulders. «It is the real Dorian Gray—that is all.»

       «It is not.»

       «If it is not, what have I to do with it?»

       «You should have gone away when I asked you,» he muttered.

       «I stayed when you asked me,» was Lord Henry’s answer.

       «Harry, I can’t quarrel with my two best friends at once, but between you both you have made me hate the finest piece of work I have ever done, and I will destroy it. What is it but canvas and colour? I will not let it come across our three lives and mar them.»

       Dorian Gray lifted his golden head from the pillow, and with pallid face and tear-stained eyes, looked at him as he walked over to the deal painting-table that was set beneath the high curtained window. What was he doing there? His fingers were straying about among the litter of tin tubes and dry brushes, seeking for something. Yes, it was for the long palette-knife, with its thin blade of lithe steel. He had found it at last. He was going to rip up the canvas.

       With a stifled sob the lad leaped from the couch, and, rushing over to Hallward, tore the knife out of his hand, and flung it to the end of the studio. «Don’t, Basil, don’t!» he cried. «It would be murder!»

       «I am glad you appreciate my work at last, Dorian,» said the painter coldly when he had recovered from his surprise. «I never thought you would.»

       «Appreciate it? I am in love with it, Basil. It is part of myself. I feel that.»

       «Well, as soon as you are dry, you shall be varnished, and framed, and sent home. Then you can do what you like with yourself.» And he walked across the room and rang the bell for tea. «You will have tea, of course, Dorian? And so will you, Harry? Or do you object to such simple pleasures?»

       «I adore simple pleasures,» said Lord Henry. «They are the last refuge of the complex. But I don’t like scenes, except on the stage. What absurd fellows you are, both of you! I wonder who it was defined man as a rational animal. It was the most premature definition ever given. Man is many things, but he is not rational. I am glad he is not, after all—though I wish you chaps would not squabble over the picture. You had much better let me have it, Basil. This silly boy doesn’t really want it, and I really do.»

       «If you let any one have it but me, Basil, I shall never forgive you!» cried Dorian Gray; «and I don’t allow people to call me a silly boy.»

       «You know the picture is yours, Dorian. I gave it to you before it existed.»

       «And you know you have been a little silly, Mr. Gray, and that you don’t really object to being reminded that you are extremely young.»

       «I should have objected very strongly this morning, Lord Henry.»

       «Ah! this morning! You have lived since then.»

       There came a knock at the door, and the butler entered with a laden tea-tray and set it down upon a small Japanese table. There was a rattle of cups and saucers and the hissing of a fluted Georgian urn. Two globe-shaped china dishes were brought in by a page. Dorian Gray went over and poured out the tea. The two men sauntered languidly to the table and examined what was under the covers.

       «Let us go to the theatre to-night,» said Lord Henry. «There is sure to be something on, somewhere. I have promised to dine at White’s, but it is only with an old friend, so I can send him a wire to say that I am ill, or that I am prevented from coming in consequence of a subsequent engagement. I think that would be a rather nice excuse: it would have all the surprise of candour.»

       «It is such a bore putting on one’s dress-clothes,» muttered Hallward. «And, when one has them on, they are so horrid.»

       «Yes,» answered Lord Henry dreamily, «the costume of the nineteenth century is detestable. It is so sombre, so depressing. Sin is the only real colour-element left in modern life.«

       «You really must not say things like that before Dorian, Harry.»

       «Before which Dorian? The one who is pouring out tea for us, or the one in the picture?»

       «Before either.»

       «I should like to come to the theatre with you, Lord Henry,» said the lad.

       «Then you shall come; and you will come, too, Basil, won’t you?»

       «I can’t, really. I would sooner not. I have a lot of work to do.»

       «Well, then, you and I will go alone, Mr. Gray.»

       «I should like that awfully.»

       The painter bit his lip and walked over, cup in hand, to the picture. «I shall stay with the real Dorian,» he said, sadly.

       «Is it the real Dorian?» cried the original of the portrait, strolling across to him. «Am I really like that?»

       «Yes; you are just like that.»

       «How wonderful, Basil!»

       «At least you are like it in appearance. But it will never alter,» sighed Hallward. «That is something.»

       «What a fuss people make about fidelity!» exclaimed Lord Henry. «Why, even in love it is purely a question for physiology. It has nothing to do with our own will. Young men want to be faithful, and are not; old men want to be faithless, and cannot: that is all one can say.»

       «Don’t go to the theatre to-night, Dorian,» said Hallward. «Stop and dine with me.»

       «I can’t, Basil.»

       «Why?»

       «Because I have promised Lord Henry Wotton to go with him.»

       «He won’t like you the better for keeping your promises. He always breaks his own. I beg you not to go.»

       Dorian Gray laughed and shook his head.

       «I entreat you.»

       The lad hesitated, and looked over at Lord Henry, who was watching them from the tea-table with an amused smile.

       «I must go, Basil,» he answered.

       «Very well,» said Hallward, and he went over and laid down his cup on the tray. «It is rather late, and, as you have to dress, you had better lose no time. Good-bye, Harry. Good-bye, Dorian. Come and see me soon. Come to-morrow.»

       «Certainly.»

       «You won’t forget?»

       «No, of course not,» cried Dorian.

        «And … Harry!»

       «Yes, Basil?»

       «Remember what I asked you, when we were in the garden this morning.»

       «I have forgotten it.»

       «I trust you.»

       «I wish I could trust myself,» said Lord Henry, laughing. «Come, Mr. Gray, my hansom is outside, and I can drop you at your own place. Good-bye, Basil. It has been a most interesting afternoon.»

       As the door closed behind them, the painter flung himself down on a sofa, and a look of pain came into his face.