"Yes, I—I suppose so," but the spinster held back.
"Do go," put in Foster gently. "A clandestine meeting is not wise for either Kathleen or Miller. Think of the construction which may be put upon it."
"True." But Miss Kiametia rose reluctantly, and to gain time to collect her ideas, walked over to the table to gather up her scarf and gold mesh purse. As she picked up the latter a slight scream escaped her. Instantly the two men were by her side.
"See, it's missing!" she cried, raising the gold mesh purse with its dangling vanity box.
"What is missing?" demanded Foster. "Don't look so distracted, my darling."
"M-m-my g-gold p-p-pencil," she stuttered.
"Is that all?" and Foster smiled in relief. "I'll buy you another tomorrow."
"Indeed you won't," recovering some degree of composure. "I'll find mine, if I have to search this house from the top to the bottom."
"But please see Miss Whitney first," broke in Mitchell.
Miss Kiametia cast him a strange look. "That is the first place I shall go," she announced, and the two men watched her depart in silence. Foster was about to speak when the electric lights flickered, grew dim, and then went slowly out.