Henry remains standing in place, holding his cigarette at an angle, not looking away from Dorian.

"The years, Dorian. The things you have done. They do not show on your face or on your hands, but it is in your voice. A voice that is no less lovely, but it is not a boy's anymore, is it? It has not been a boy's for a long time, I think."

The faintest of smiles plays across his lips.

"What did Oscar say when you told him about Basil?"