guilt

There was a wild recklessness of gaiety in his manner as he sat at table, but now and then a thrill of terror ran through him when he remembered that, pressed against the window of the conservatory, like a white handkerchief, he had seen the face of James Vane...

He sent him to bed, and threw himself down on the sofa in the library, and began to think over some of the things that Lord Henry had said to him. He felt a wild longing for the unstained purity of his boyhood—his rose-white boyhood, as Lord Henry had once cal...

That habit came back to the poor dear, and that awful night on the cliff must have made her ill. I had almost forgotten in my own affairs how ill she was afterwards.

I am speaking from the depths of my heart--of my very soul. You don’t know whom you wrong, or how; and I may not tell.