CHAPTER XVI.

lywithhideousiterationthebittenlipsofDorianGrayshapedandreshapedthosesubtlewordsthatdealtwithsoulandsense,tillhehadfoundinthemthefullexpression,asitwere,ofhismood,andjustified,byintellectualapproval,passionsthatwithoutsuchjustificationwouldstillhavedominatedhistemper.Fromcelltocellofhisbraincrepttheonethoughtandthewilddesiretolive,mostterribleofallman’sappetites,quickenedintoforceeachtremblingnerveandfibre.Uglinessthathadoncebeenhatefultohimbecauseitmadethingsreal,becamedeartohimnowforthatveryreason.Uglinesswastheonereality.Thecoarsebrawl,theloathsomeden,thecrudeviolenceofdisorderedlife,theveryvilenessofthiefandoutcast,weremorevivid,intheirintenseactualityofimpression,thanallthegraciousshapesofart,thedreamyshadowsofsong.Theywerewhatheneededforforgetfulness.Inthreedayshewouldbefree. Suddenlythemandrewupwithajerkatthetopofadarklane.Overthelowroofsandjaggedchimney-stacksofthehousesrosetheblackmastsofships.Wreathsofwhitemistclunglikeghostlysailstotheyards. “Somewhereabouthere,sir,ain’tit?”heaskedhuskilythroughthetrap. Dorianstartedandpeeredround.“Thiswilldo,”heanswered,andhavinggotouthastilyandgiventhedrivertheextrafarehehadpromisedhim,hewalkedquicklyinthedirectionofthequay.Hereandtherealanterngleamedatthesternofsomehugemerchantman.Thelightshookandsplinteredinthepuddles.Aredglarecamefromanoutward-boundsteamerthatwascoaling.Theslimypavementlookedlikeawetmackintosh. Hehurriedontowardstheleft,glancingbacknowandthentoseeifhewasbeingfollowed.Inaboutsevenoreightminuteshereachedasmallshabbyhousethatwaswedgedinbetweentwogauntfactories.Inoneofthetop-windowsstoodalamp.Hestoppedandgaveapeculiarknock. Afteralittletimeheheardstepsinthepassageandthechainbeingunhooked.Thedooropenedquietly,andhewentinwithoutsayingawordtothesquatmisshapenfigurethatflatteneditselfintotheshadowashepassed.Attheendofthehallhungatatteredgreencurtainthatswayedandshookinthegustywindwhichhadfollowedhiminfromthestreet.Hedraggeditasideandenteredalonglowroomwhichlookedasifithadoncebeenathird-ratedancing-saloon.Shrillflaringgas-jets,dulledanddistortedinthefly-blownmirrorsthatfacedthem,wererangedroundthewalls.Greasyreflectorsofribbedtinbackedthem,makingquiveringdisksoflight.Thefloorwascoveredwithochre-colouredsawdust,trampledhereandthereintomud,andstainedwithdarkringsofspilledliquor.SomeMalayswerecrouchingbyalittlecharcoalstove,playingwithbonecountersandshowingtheirwhiteteethastheychattered.Inonecorner,withhisheadburiedinhisarms,asailorsprawledoveratable,andbythetawdrilypaintedbarthatranacrossonecompletesidestoodtwohaggardwomen,mockinganoldmanwhowasbrushingthesleevesofhiscoatwithanexpressionofdisgust.“Hethinkshe’sgotredantsonhim,”laughedoneofthem,asDorianpassedby.Themanlookedatherinterrorandbegantowhimper. Attheendoftheroomtherewasalittlestaircase,leadingto