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.