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- Портрет Дориана Грея
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- Стр. 129/164
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"
Where
else
should
I
be
?
"
he
answered
,
listlessly
.
"
None
of
the
chaps
will
speak
to
me
now
.
"
"
I
thought
you
had
left
England
.
"
"
Darlington
is
not
going
to
do
anything
.
My
brother
paid
the
bill
at
last
.
George
does
n't
speak
to
me
either
...
.
I
do
n't
care
,
"
he
added
,
with
a
sigh
.
"
As
long
as
one
has
this
stuff
,
one
does
n't
want
friends
.
I
think
I
have
had
too
many
friends
.
"
Dorian
winced
,
and
looked
round
at
the
grotesque
things
that
lay
in
such
fantastic
postures
on
the
ragged
mattresses
.
The
twisted
limbs
,
the
gaping
mouths
,
the
staring
lustreless
eyes
,
fascinated
him
.
He
knew
in
what
strange
heavens
they
were
suffering
,
and
what
dull
hells
were
teaching
them
the
secret
of
some
new
joy
.
They
were
better
off
than
he
was
.
He
was
prisoned
in
thought
.
Memory
,
like
a
horrible
malady
,
was
eating
his
soul
away
.
From
time
to
time
he
seemed
to
see
the
eyes
of
Basil
Hallward
looking
at
him
.
Yet
he
felt
he
could
not
stay
.
The
presence
of
Adrian
Singleton
troubled
him
.
He
wanted
to
be
where
no
one
would
know
who
he
was
.
He
wanted
to
escape
from
himself
.
"
I
am
going
on
to
the
other
place
,
"
he
said
,
after
a
pause
.
"
On
the
wharf
?
"
"
Yes
.
"
"
That
mad-cat
is
sure
to
be
there
.
They
wo
n't
have
her
in
this
place
now
.
"
Dorian
shrugged
his
shoulders
.
"
I
am
sick
of
women
who
love
one
.
Women
who
hate
one
are
much
more
interesting
.
Besides
,
the
stuff
is
better
.
"
"
Much
the
same
.
"
