呼延书亮 99万字 767479人读过 连载
it was some foul parody, some infamous ignoble satire. he had never done that. still, it was his own picture. he knew it, and he felt as if his blood had changed in a moment from fire to sluggish ice. his own picture! what did it mean? why had it altered? he turned and looked at dorian gray with the eyes of a sick man. his mouth twitched, and his parched tongue seemed unable to articulate. he passed his hand across his forehead. it was dank with clammy sweat.
"how long has she been married?" asked dorian.
"the jew wanted to tell me her history, but i said it did not interest me."
"oh! she is audacious enough for anything, my dear. and what is ferrol like? i dont know him."