"Eighteen years! Set me under the lamp and look at my face!" James Vane hesitated for a moment, not understanding what was meant.
Then he seized Dorian Gray and dragged him from the archway.
Dim and wavering as was the wind-blown light, yet it served to show him the hideous error, as it seemed, into which he had fallen, for the face of the man he had sought to kill had all the bloom of boyhood, all the unstained purity of youth.

He seemed little more than a lad of twenty summers, hardly older, if older indeed at all, than his sister had been when they had parted so many years ago.

It was obvious that this was not the man who had destroyed her life.
He loosened his hold and reeled back.

"My God! my God!" he cried, "and I would have murdered you!" Dorian Gray drew a long breath.

"You have been on the brink of committing a terrible crime, my man," he said, looking at him sternly.
"Let this be a warning to you not to take vengeance into your own hands." "Forgive me, sir," muttered James Vane.