smart society. "Couldn't resist the temptation to have you all lunch with
me," added Foster. "Won't you sit here, Mrs. Whitney," pulling out a
chair on his right, "and Kiametia," indicating the chair on his left,
"and Whitney next to you. Miss Kathleen, it's not etiquette to place
father and daughter together, but I have a stranger for your other hand.
Ah, here he comes...."

Kathleen's back was to the entrance of the dining-room, but a sixth sense
warned her who the newcomer was, and her face was expressionless when
Foster introduced his friend, Captain Miller, to Mrs. Whitney and her
husband. After greeting Miss Kiametia, Miller stepped to Kathleen's side.

"Good morning," he said quietly, and held out his hand. Kathleen drew
back, then good breeding mastered her indignation. A second later her
hand was laid in his and instantly withdrawn, but her fingers tingled
from his strong clasp.

"Jolly party you must have had last night, Kiametia." Foster's cheery
voice enabled Kathleen to control her somewhat shaken nerves. "Telephoned
Sinclair Spencer to stop and see me this morning, but his servant said he
never showed up until noon today."

"Kathleen pleaded guilty to a sleepless night," volunteered Mrs. Whitney,
to the girl's secret indignation.

"It was the lobster," answered Miss Kiametia. "I tried to warn you not
to eat it, Kathleen."

"Well, your lobster won't account for the non-appearance of Henry,"
mourned Mrs. Whitney, her mind harking back to her own grievance. "How