THE LAST PASSENGER
Meade was having his coffee in the smoking-room. Major Crupp came in and took a seat beside him.
A watchful steward hurried over. "Coffee, sir?"
"Please."
"Cigarette, Major?" asked Meade.
"I will—thanks."
Lavis came in. Both men passed the greetings of the evening with him, and then Meade, at least, forgot that he existed. Only interesting people were of value to Meade, and he had early in the passage appraised Lavis—one of those negligible persons whose habit was to hover near some group of notables and look at them or listen to them, and, if encouraged, join in the conversation, or, if invited, take a hand in a game of cards.
"Seen Cadogan since dinner, Major?" asked Meade.
"He's patrolling the deck right now."
"With the beautiful lady?"