She smiled brightly for the lens, gripping my arm tightly against her silk sleeve.

“Table twenty-two is where charity cases belong, dear,” she whispered in my ear before letting go of my arm.

I calmly stepped back out of the frame before the flash went off a second time.

The photographer lowered his camera and looked in confusion at the empty space beside Margaret’s shoulder.

“Is the Major General in this photograph or not?” the photographer asked.

Margaret did not answer him.