"Who is it ?" she asked.
"That, miss?
That's Mr.John, Madam's husband that's dead a good many years now.

But I remember him well." "Could I look at it?
He is so much like my father." She walked rapidly over the ancient rug, unheeding its beauties, while the wondering butler followed a trifle anxiously.

This was unprecedented.

Mrs.Sands's errand-girls usually knew their place.
"Madam said you was to come right up to her room," said the butler pointedly.

But Elizabeth stood rooted to the ground, studying the picture.
The butler had to repeat the message.