"You look hipped and rather slack, Tom," she said when he got up and Gavin fetched a chair.
"I feel the cold and damp," Cartwright replied. "Then managing a tramp-steamship line when freights are low is a wearing job."
Mrs. Seaton took off her coat. "Your office is shabby and climbing all those stairs is a pull. Why don't you launch out, get a lift, and modernize things?"
"My trouble is to keep the boats supplied with coal and stores. Besides, you see, I don't often use my office for a drawing-room."
"You're very cautious," Mrs. Seaton remarked with a laugh. "You start to get on guard before I begin my attack."
"Oh, well," said Cartwright, smiling, "I know your power. But would you like a cigarette?"
She took the curiously-decorated box he gave her and broke the seal. "Since you don't smoke these things, Tom, you were rather nice to remember."
"You had better take the box," said Cartwright. "I sent for a few when Titania went to the Levant. One understands they're hard to get in England. But I have something else you like. If you will wait a moment—"
He rang a bell and Gavin entered, carrying two small glasses, a bottle, and some biscuits. When he went out, Cartwright turned the bottle so Mrs. Seaton could see the label.
"Climbing our stairs is a fag," he said, and filled the glasses.