The room looked as if it had not been lived in for years.

A faded Flemish tapestry, a curtained picture, an old Italian cassone, and an almost empty book-case--that was all that it seemed to contain, besides a chair and a table.

As Dorian Gray was lighting a half-burned candle that was standing on the mantelshelf, he saw that the whole place was covered with dust and that the carpet was in holes.

A mouse ran scuffling behind the wainscoting.

There was a damp odour of mildew.
"So you think that it is only God who sees the soul, Basil?
Draw that curtain back, and you will see mine." The voice that spoke was cold and cruel.