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Updated: June 16, 2025
Upon receiving his message she made her way to where Kathleen and her partner had just paused after a breathless extra. "Having a good time, dearie?" she questioned. "It is a shame to interrupt your pleasure, but your father has telephoned that you must be at home by midnight." "And your car waits, Cinderella," put in Spencer who, suddenly returning, had overheard Miss Kiametia's remark.
But she had seen Spencer in the house that very night. What did that mean? What was he there for? Surely, Kathleen had not.... A stir in the back of the room recalled Miss Kiametia's wandering thoughts, and she leaned eagerly forward to hear the report of the chairman of the tellers. Mrs. Whitney was elected and Miss Kiametia had also carried the day.
"The Pied Piper, judging from the way you women run after him," he grumbled. "Can't a good-looking man come to Washington without being swamped with invitations?" "Sour grapes!" Miss Kiametia's kind smile took the sting from her words, and Foster, whose looks were his sensitive point, laughed. "You haven't answered my question."
That her manner was distrait and her replies somewhat haphazard escaped him utterly. The drive to Chevy Chase was both long and cold, and while waiting for Miss Kiametia's other guests to assemble before he presented himself, he had enjoyed more than one cocktail. That stimulant, combined with Miss Kiametia's excellent champagne, had dulled his perceptions.
Spencer's florid complexion turned a deeper tint as he met Henry's blank stare, but a covert glance at the Whitneys convinced him that they had not seen Miss Kiametia's rudeness. "Do take Mr. Spencer upstairs, Winslow," suggested Mrs. Whitney, as the chauffeur opened the door to admit more guests. "I have a meeting of my club tonight, Mr. Spencer, and therefore..."
As Foster stopped speaking enthusiastic applause broke out, and a rising vote of thanks was given him. As the gratified Senator stepped down from the platform he found himself by Miss Kiametia's side. "I did it to please you, Kiametia," he whispered, holding her hand tightly. "Have I earned one kind word?" Miss Kiametia favored him with a quick expressive look and a faint blush.
"Possibly I had good reason." Kathleen's color rose. "Where, pray, did you pick him up?" "Tut, tut! Don't forget you are talking to a woman nearly old enough to be your mother." But Miss Kiametia's kind heart softened as she saw Kathleen felt her words. "There, dearie, don't mind an old crosspatch. Captain Miller was introduced to me by Senator Foster.
She sat bolt upright and glanced eagerly about for a scrap of paper and a pencil. The white back of a magazine on a lamp table caught her eye and she went toward it. By the lamp lay Miss Kiametia's gold mesh purse, vanity box, and pencil. Kathleen snatched up the dangling baubles and the magazine and returned to the sofa. If only she could get her impression down on paper before remembrance faded!
She stopped just back of Miller's chair and rested her hand lightly on Miss Kiametia's shoulder as the latter pulled the electric lamp nearer so that its rays fell full upon Miller's palm. "Has the size of the hand anything to do with the subject?" asked Miller, as the spinster picked up a magnifying glass. "Don't make suggestions to the oracle," laughed Foster. "Go ahead, Kiametia."
Miss Kiametia's variable likes and dislikes, her sudden whims and fancies, her irritability all were traceable to the same cause. The sound of her name caused Kathleen to raise her head with a start. Henry, the chauffeur, was standing just inside the hall door. "Beg pardon, Miss Kathleen," he said. "Mrs.
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