It was certainly strange.
He turned round and, walking to the window, drew up the blind.

The bright dawn flooded the room and swept the fantastic shadows into dusky corners, where they lay shuddering.

But the strange expression that he had noticed in the face of the portrait seemed to linger there, to be more intensified even.

The quivering ardent sunlight showed him the lines of cruelty round the mouth as clearly as if he had been looking into a mirror after he had done some dreadful thing.
He winced and, taking up from the table an oval glass framed in ivory Cupids, one of Lord Henry's many presents to him, glanced hurriedly into its polished depths.

No line like that warped his red lips.