"You are going to be good?" said Lord Henry. "Don’t tell me that. You are wonderful as you are. Please don’t change." His long white fingers played with a flower on the table. It was spring in London and the two friends were having dinner at Lord Henry’s house.
Dorian Gray shook his head. "No Harry, I’ve done too many terrible things in my life and I’m going to change. I began my good life yesterday in the country."
"My dear boy," smiled Lord Henry  "everybody can be good in the country. There’s nothing to do in the country so it’s impossible to do anything bad. But tell me how did you begin your good life?"
"There was a girl in a village. A very beautiful girl, an honest country girl. She loved me and was ready to come away with me yesterday, but I said no. I refused to destroy her young life and I’ve left her as honest as I found her."
Lord Henry laughed "You’ve left her with a broken heart you mean. How can she be happy now with a country boy, after she has known you?"
"Don’t, Harry!" cried Dorian. "Can you never be serious? I’m sorry that I told you now.  Let’s talk about other things. What’s been happening in London?"
"Oh, people are still discussing poor Basil and how he disappeared. I don’t know why, because there are plenty other things that they can talk about – my wife has run away with another man, Alan Campbell has killed himself…"
"What do you think has happened to Basil?" asked Dorian slowly.
"I’ve no idea," answered Lord Henry. "The English police report that Basil went to Paris on the midnight train on the ninth of November, but the French police say that he never arrived in Paris at all. If Basil wants to hide himself I really don’t care. And if he’s dead I don’t want to think about him. Death is the only thing that really frightens me – I hate it."
"Harry, don’t people say that… that Basil was murdered?" said Dorian.
"Some of the newspapers say so," replied Lord Henry. "But who would want to murder poor Basil? He wasn’t clever enough to have enemies."
"What will you say, Harry, if I tell you that I murdered Basil?" asked Dorian. He watched his friend carefully.
Lord Henry smiled. "No, my dear Dorian, murder wouldn’t please you. You like a different kind of pleasure. And you should never do anything that you cannot talk about after dinner." He lifted his coffee cup. "What happened to the fine portrait that Basil painted of you? I haven’t seen it for years. Didn’t you tell me that it was stolen? What a pity!"
"Oh, I never really liked it," said Dorian. "I prefer not to think about it."
For a while the two men were silent. Then the older man lay back in his chair and looked at Dorian with half-closed eyes. "Tell me how you have kept your youth and your wonderful beauty, Dorian. You must have some secret. I’m only ten years older than you and I look like an old man. But you haven’t changed since the day when I first met you. What a wonderful life you’ve had!"
"Yes," said Dorian slowly, "it’s been wonderful, Harry, but I’m going to change it now. You don’t know everything about me."
His friend smiled. "You cannot change to me, Dorian. You and I will always be friends."
Dorian stood up. "I’m tired tonight, Harry, I must go home. I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow. Goodnight."
At the door he stopped for a moment and looked back, but then he turned and went out without another word.