"Is it so very beautiful?"
"Well—"
"So beautiful that it almost hurts? Celia, dear, let me risk it," I pleaded.
She fetched it and gave it to me. I gazed at it a long time.
"Who is it?" I asked at last.
"I don't know, dear."
"Is it like anybody we know?"
"I think it's meant to be like you, darling," said Celia tenderly, trying to break it to me.
I gazed at it again.
"Would you get me a glass?" I asked her.