Is that his name?" asked Lord Henry, walking across the studio towards Basil Hallward.
"Not at all," answered Lord Henry, "not at all, my dear Basil. You seem to forget that I am married, and the one charm of marriage is that it makes a life of deception absolutely necessary for both parties.
"I hate the way you talk about your married life, Harry," said Basil Hallward, strolling towards the door that led into the garden.
"I am afraid I must be going, Basil," he murmured, "and before I go, I insist on your answering a question I put to you some time ago."
"Harry," said Basil Hallward, looking him straight in the face, "every portrait that is painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter.
"I am all expectation, Basil," continued his companion, glancing at him.
Lord Henry felt as if he could hear Basil Hallward's heart beating, and wondered what was coming.
"Conscience and cowardice are really the same things, Basil. Conscience is the trade-name of the firm.
"My dear old Basil, you are much more than an acquaintance."
"How English you are Basil! That is the second time you have made that observation.
"I think you are wrong, Basil, but I won't argue with you.