That evening, at half past eight, Dorian Gray arrived at Lady Narborough’s house.
He was dressed perfectly and wore a large bunch of Parma violets in his buttonhole.
Servants bowed as they showed him into the drawing room.
Dorian’s head was pounding from nervous tension, and inside he felt almost wildly excited.
But outwardly, he appeared as calm and graceful as ever when he bent over Lady Narborough’s hand to greet her.
Perhaps, Dorian thought, people often seem most relaxed when they are pretending.
Certainly, no one looking at him that evening would have guessed that he had just lived through something as terrible as any tragedy of modern life.