[He isn't quite expecting it, but the first thing Henry feels is wounded—that Dorian has concealed such a magnificent secret from him all this time. Then disbelief—and then the certainty that Dorian is actually telling the truth.]
[Quietly, he laughs.]
I must tell you, my dear fellow, I never completely believed that story—it always seemed to me that were it true, you would have spared no effort or expense to get the portrait back. And yet what else was I to believe? Certainly not what you are telling me now, and indeed, had today's events not been so unexpectedly delightful, I should still suspect an elaborate fabrication.
[A pause, during which he toys absently with his cigarette-case.]
Where is the portrait, then? I confess I should rather like to see it.
[To see, he thinks, what time and Dorian have wrought. To see what you have wrought, Harry, he seems to hear, but he brushes the thought away like a buzzing fly.]
action
[Quietly, he laughs.]
I must tell you, my dear fellow, I never completely believed that story—it always seemed to me that were it true, you would have spared no effort or expense to get the portrait back. And yet what else was I to believe? Certainly not what you are telling me now, and indeed, had today's events not been so unexpectedly delightful, I should still suspect an elaborate fabrication.
[A pause, during which he toys absently with his cigarette-case.]
Where is the portrait, then? I confess I should rather like to see it.
[To see, he thinks, what time and Dorian have wrought. To see what you have wrought, Harry, he seems to hear, but he brushes the thought away like a buzzing fly.]