Kitty stared at him uncomprehendingly, dumbly; then, before they could detain her, she fled from the library and rushing upstairs, dashed into her room, locked the door, and flung herself face downward on the bed. CHAPTER IV SUICIDE? The reception was in full swing and Mrs. Amos Parsons contemplated her crowded drawing room in a spirit of happy self-congratulation. She had just welcomed a newly accredited ambassador and introduced a Cabinet officer to the ambassador's charming wife and she felt that her feet were at last securely placed upon the ladder of success. The scene was typical of the national Capital. The World War had rudely interrupted the "calling" days of the hostesses of Washington, but with the advent of peace a return had been made to old customs, and "teas" were again taking their accepted place in the social calendar. "A penny for your thoughts," said a masculine voice over her shoulder and glancing around Mrs. Parsons found Charles Craige at her elbow. "You offer a penny too much," laughed Mrs. Parsons. "They were idle thoughts--" "About the idle rich." Craig looked at her with admiration. "Upon my word, Cecilia, you grow prettier every day." "Happiness is a great 'beautifier,'" Mrs. Parsons glanced up at him with a strange, new shyness; then quickly veiled her eyes that he might not read her thoughts too plainly. Under pretense of arranging the bouquet, his gift, which she was carrying, Craige pressed her hand. His marked attention to the fascinating widow had aroused the interest of their circle of friends, and the prospect of the announcement of their engagement had formed the topic of conversation on numerous occasions. There was a lull in the arrival of guests and Mrs. Parsons imperceptibly edged toward an alcove. Many curious glances were cast in their direction by both men and women who stood chatting in groups about the long drawing room. They made a striking tableau--Mrs. Parsons' delicate beauty enhanced by a perfectly fitting modish gown, and Charles Craige, standing tall and straight beside her, his iron-grey hair and ruddy complexion adding distinction to his appearance. "The world and his wife are here this afternoon, Cecilia," he said. "Your tea is an unqualified success. And every one is lingering," glancing down the room. "That is a sure sign that they are enjoying themselves." "Except Major Wallace." Mrs. Parsons drew his attention to a man worming his way between the groups of people. "He appears to avoid his friends--there, he has cut Nina Potter dead." "What a caddish thing to do!" Craige spoke with warmth as he saw Mrs. Potter shrink back and her half-extended hand drop to her side. Turning quickly, she slipped behind two women and disappeared from their sight. Walking moodily ahead, Leigh Wallace found himself face to face with his hostess and Charles Craige. "Not leaving so early, surely?" she exclaimed as he put out his hand.