She says it, but he doesn't believe it. Watching her now, seeing the expression.
At least, he thinks, she seems to be trying to be happy. A little bit.
"It's a hard thing to catch, happiness." A quicksilver smile— "Trust me, I've spent a long time not chasing it. Have you ever read The Picture of Dorian Gray? There's this lovely exchange that Oscar wrote for me and one of Lord Henry's relatives—'I have never searched for happiness. Who wants happiness? I have searched for pleasure,' I tell the pretty Duchess I would seduce, and she asks me, 'And found it, Mr. Gray?'"
He turns his head down, smiles softly. "'Often. Too often.'" Up lifts the cup of tea, and Dorian's fond tone of conspiracy lightens the gravity of it. "Sometimes, I suspect Oscar was trying to tell me something."
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At least, he thinks, she seems to be trying to be happy. A little bit.
"It's a hard thing to catch, happiness." A quicksilver smile— "Trust me, I've spent a long time not chasing it. Have you ever read The Picture of Dorian Gray? There's this lovely exchange that Oscar wrote for me and one of Lord Henry's relatives—'I have never searched for happiness. Who wants happiness? I have searched for pleasure,' I tell the pretty Duchess I would seduce, and she asks me, 'And found it, Mr. Gray?'"
He turns his head down, smiles softly. "'Often. Too often.'" Up lifts the cup of tea, and Dorian's fond tone of conspiracy lightens the gravity of it. "Sometimes, I suspect Oscar was trying to tell me something."