As they entered the house, the saw Dorian Gray. He was sitting by the window and turning some pages of music.
"You must lend me this music, Basil," he said. Then he turned and saw Lord Henry. "Oh, I’m sorry, Basil. I didn’t realize…"
"Dorian, this is Lord Henry Wotton," said Basil. "He’s an old friend of mine."
Dorian Gray shook hands with Lord Henry, and while they talked, Lord Henry studied the young man. Yes, he was very good-looking indeed, with his bright blue eyes and his gold hair. He had an open, honest face. There were no dark secrets in that face. Lord Henry could understand Basil’s feelings for him.
Basil was getting his paints ready. Now he looked at Lord Henry. "Harry," he said, "I want to finish this portrait of Dorian today. I’m afraid I must ask you to go away."
Lord Henry smiled and looked at Dorian Gray. "Should I go, Mr. Gray?" he asked.
"Oh, please, don’t leave Lord Henry. Basil never talks when he’s painting and it’s so boring. Please stay. I’d like you to talk to me."
"Well, Basil?" Lord Henry asked.
The artist bit his lip. "Very well, Harry. Stay… if you must."
While Basil painted, Lord Henry talked and the young man listened. The words filled Dorian’s head like music- wild, exciting music. What a beautiful voice Lord Henry has, he thought. They are only words but how terrible they are! How bright and dangerous! You cannot escape from words. Dorian began to understand things about himself that he had never understood before. Why had he never seen himself so clearly, he wondered.
Lord Henry watched Dorian, and smiled. He knew when to speak, and when to be silent. He felt very interested in this young man, with his wonderful face.
Later they walked in the garden together, while Basil worked at the portrait. The rich scent of the flowers was all around them. Dorian looked at the older man, and wondered about him. He was tall, with a thin dark face and cool white hands. Dorian liked him, but why did he feel a little afraid of him?
"You must come out to the sun, Mr. Gray," said Lord Henry. "A brown skin isn’t fashionable and it won’t suit you."
"Oh, it doesn’t matter," laughed Dorian.
"But it should matter to you, Mr. Gray."
"Why?" asked Dorian.
"Because you’re young, and being young is wonderful. Ah, you smile. You don’t think so now, but one day you’ll understand what I mean- when you’re old, and tired, and no longer beautiful. You have a wonderfully beautiful face, Mr. Gray. It’s true. Don’t shake your head at me. And there’s nothing more important, more valuable than beauty. When your youth goes, your beauty will go with it. Then you’ll suddenly discover that your life is empty - there will be nothing to enjoy, nothing to hope for. Time is your enemy, Mr. Gray. It will steal everything from you. People are afraid of themselves today. Afraid to live. But you, with your face and youth, there’s nothing that you cannot do. You must live! Live the wonderful life that is in you! We can never be young again. Youth! Ah, there’s nothing in the world as important as youth!"
Dorian Gray listened and wondered. New ideas filled his head. He felt strange, different.
At that moment Basil called them from the house. Lord Henry turned to Dorian.             "You’re happy that you’ve met me, Mr. Gray," he said.
"Yes, I’m happy now. Will I always be happy, I wonder?"
"Always!" Lord Henry smiled. "What a terrible word! Women use it much too often. What does it mean? It’s today that is important."