What A Flake!

At the Lincoln Day Dinner on Saturday evening, elected officials were serving hors d'oeuvres at the pre-dinner reception. Some of these treats had a light, flakey crust. I found them to be delicious. At one point during the reception I shared a clearly entertaining and humorous anecdote with two couples with whom I was visiting - - I know for a fact that this tale was a comedic hit because I found myself laughing uproariously. Somewhat to my dismay, during the course of my enjoyment, I perceived that a small particle of flakey crust had been propelled from the vicinity of my mouth in the general direction of one of the women, and I watched helplessly as the particle embedded itself on the left lapel of her suit coat. Disaster! Or was it? Could it be? Yes, no one else had seen the flakey projectile. But now the dilemma. Burdened with this knowledge, what was my duty? Should I confess my mishap to those present, then make some awkward attempt to remove the particle, thereby drawing unwelcome attention to my "victim," not knowing whether I could successfully remove all traces of the particle or not? Or, would a higher good be served were I to remain silent, counting on the odds that no one would detect the hors d'oeuvre fragment during the course of the evening, and not risk transforming the status quo of "no harm, no foul" into a full-blown scandal in which neither victim nor perpetrator would come out ahead?