"Yes, my dear? One often has that feeling when looking at a portrait.
Can't you remember who it was?"
"No," said Celia, "I've been trying to think; but I can't remember ever
meeting anyone resembling that face. I suppose it is only my fancy."
"I dare say," assented Mrs. Dexter. "You will dine at the usual hour,
eight o'clock, I suppose? I am going to have your dinner served in the
little room behind the library. You will not feel so lonely as you would
in the big dining-room; but, of course, if you prefer----"
"What, sit there all by myself, in that great big room! I should die of
fright. I should feel as if I had been wrecked on a desert island. Oh,
the little room, please, by all means."