bad for him."

"Mr. Dorian Gray does not belong to Blue Books, Uncle George," said
Lord Henry languidly.

"Mr. Dorian Gray? Who is he?" asked Lord Fermor, knitting his bushy
white eyebrows.

"That is what I have come to learn, Uncle George. Or rather, I know
who he is. He is the last Lord Kelso's grandson. His mother was a
Devereux, Lady Margaret Devereaux. I want you to tell me about his
mother. What was she like? Whom did she marry? You have known nearly
everybody in your time, so you might have known her. I am very much
interested in Mr. Gray at present. I have only just met him."

"Kelso's grandson!" echoed the old gentleman. "Kelso's grandson! ...
Of course.... I knew his mother intimately. I believe I was at her
christening. She was an extraordinarily beautiful girl, Margaret
Devereux, and made all the men frantic by running away with a penniless
young fellow--a mere nobody, sir, a subaltern in a foot regiment, or
something of that kind. Certainly. I remember the whole thing as if
it happened yesterday. The poor chap was killed in a duel at Spa a few
months after the marriage. There was an ugly story about it. They
said Kelso got some rascally adventurer, some Belgian brute, to insult
his son-in-law in public--paid him, sir, to do it, paid him--and that
the fellow spitted his man as if he had been a pigeon. The thing was
hushed up, but, egad, Kelso ate his chop alone at the club for some
time afterwards. He brought his daughter back with him, I was told,
and she never spoke to him again. Oh, yes; it was a bad business. The
girl died, too, died within a year. So she left a son, did she? I had
forgotten that. What sort of boy is he? If he is like his mother, he
must be a good-looking chap."

"He is very good-looking," assented Lord Henry.

"I hope he will fall into proper hands," continued the old man. "He
should have a pot of money waiting for him if Kelso did the right thing
by him. His mother had money, too. All the Selby property came to
her, through her grandfather. Her grandfather hated Kelso, thought him
a mean dog. He was, too. Came to Madrid once when I was there. Egad,
I was ashamed of him. The Queen used to ask me about the English noble
who was always quarrelling with the cabmen about their fares. They
made quite a story of it. I didn't dare show my face at Court for a
month. I hope he treated his grandson better than he did the jarvies."

"I don't know," ans