"Yes, but I shall frequently be out to tea. You'd better have it done properly now."
Celia was thoughtful. She began composing in her mind that fourth letter ... and frowning.
"I know," she cried suddenly. "You write this time!"
It was my turn to be thoughtful....
"I don't see it. How do I come in? What is my locus standi? Locus standi," I explained in answer to her raised eyebrows, "an oath in common use among our Italian allies, meaning—What do I write as?"
"As the owner of the face," said Celia in surprise.
"Yes, but I can't dilate on my own face."
"Why not?" said Celia, bubbling. "You know you'd love it."
I looked at the miniature and began to think of possible openings. One impossible one struck me at once.
"Anyway," I said, "I'll get him to close my mouth."