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- Оскар Уайльд
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- Портрет Дориана Грея
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- Стр. 164/164
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"
Whose
house
is
that
,
constable
?
"
asked
the
elder
of
the
two
gentlemen
.
"
Mr.
Dorian
Gray
's
,
sir
,
"
answered
the
policeman
.
They
looked
at
each
other
,
as
they
walked
away
and
sneered
.
One
of
them
was
Sir
Henry
Ashton
's
uncle
.
Inside
,
in
the
servants
'
part
of
the
house
,
the
half-clad
domestics
were
talking
in
low
whispers
to
each
other
.
Old
Mrs.
Leaf
was
crying
and
wringing
her
hands
.
Francis
was
as
pale
as
death
.
After
about
a
quarter
of
an
hour
,
he
got
the
coachman
and
one
of
the
footmen
and
crept
upstairs
.
They
knocked
,
but
there
was
no
reply
.
They
called
out
.
Everything
was
still
.
Finally
,
after
vainly
trying
to
force
the
door
,
they
got
on
the
roof
,
and
dropped
down
on
to
the
balcony
.
The
windows
yielded
easily
;
their
bolts
were
old
.
When
they
entered
they
found
,
hanging
upon
the
wall
,
a
splendid
portrait
of
their
master
as
they
had
last
seen
him
,
in
all
the
wonder
of
his
exquisite
youth
and
beauty
.
Lying
on
the
floor
was
a
dead
man
,
in
evening
dress
,
with
a
knife
in
his
heart
.
He
was
withered
,
wrinkled
,
and
loathsome
of
visage
.
It
was
not
till
they
had
examined
the
rings
that
they
recognised
who
it
was
.