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Show 168 and when at last they heard Headquarters' staff-car pull under the portico the conversation died, and everyone looked up. There came a slamming of doors; voices sounded -- the Major's gruff bass, Sid Wilson's clear tenor, and two others, one masculine, pleasant, a bit quiet, the other low and resonant feminine but with its own controlled ring of authority. The great front door was heard to open; footsteps echoed in the corridor. The sounds grew closer, and just as the clouds broke apart, permitting a golden shaft of light to cascade inward like a great beacon, Harriet Lambert stepped into the room. "Oh!" A throttled gasp was heard, though she herself stood quietly radiant, looking around. In a moment she turned her head and smiled, "A party! Major Hammond, you didn't say!" "Wanted it to be a surprise," said the Major, with gruff pleasure, Harriet continued to stand. Did she, some of the women wondered later, sense the effect of the tableau she presented -- behind her the massive presence of the Major, Sid Wilson with his stalwart good looks, her husband's trim figure and modest mien? "Hardly a plain woman," Phyllis muttered to her neighbor, just as the sun went under again, the room darkened, and apparently aware that the overture had ended and the play begun, Harriet turned back to the Major. "Shall we?" |