I grabbed the senator's arm—or was it the senator?—as he tried to pass me, and warned, "Hey, none of that. What if it's Mrs. Ames?" and he shuddered, and started the other way.
Mr. Ames was starting to get up from the floor. I saw him gazing down at himself with blank bewilderment, and then he looked across at me. "What ees thees?" he asked.
I grinned and turned to O'Graeme—I think it was O'Graeme. "A newcomer in our midst," I said, jerking a thumb toward Mr. Ames. "Better explain things to her before she takes her turn in the tank, or she's in for a worse shock."
I didn't want to bother with explanations myself, because I'd just remembered my watch-candid. It could take fifty pictures without reloading, and I had a reload in my pocket, if I stayed inside my own coat long enough to use it. It was a Undex B-29, the kind that can photograph the inside of your hat by starlight.
Margie came up and touched my arm and said, "Bill?" I nodded, and she said, "This is me. Kiss me quick while we have a chance."
It was a proposition I'd never turn down, but I'll admit I looked a bit scared when I put my arms around her and complied.
She grinned impishly. "Sure, darling, Mother and Dad are probably looking, but so what? For all they know it's Mr. Wescott kissing the maid or your Slane O'Graeme making love to a mermaid, or the Senator—"
When her lips were free again, she said, "Bill, I took some shots on your candid before, when I—when I had the chance. Some of them are wows, too! Look, quick! Don't miss that!"
I laughed, and swung the candid around to get the shot.