As I said to Harry, once, you are made to be worshipped." Dorian Gray drew a long breath.

The colour came back to his cheeks, and a smile played about his lips.

The peril was over.

He was safe for the time.

Yet he could not help feeling infinite pity for the painter who had just made this strange confession to him, and wondered if he himself would ever be so dominated by the personality of a friend.