Explore "Oscar Wilde, his Life and Confessions, Volume 1" by Frank Harris on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
In spite of the wit of the hostess and her exquisite cordiality, our dinner at Mrs. Leverson's was hardly a success. Oscar was not himself; contrary to his custom he sat silent and downcast. From time to time he sighed heavily, and his leaden dejection gradually infected all of us. I was not sorry, for I wanted to get him away early; by ten o'clock we had left the house and were in the Cromwell Road. He preferred to walk: without his noticing it I turned up Queen's Gate towards the park. After walking for ten minutes I said to him:
"I want to speak to you seriously. Do you happen to know where Erith is?"