I saw a man cross the road, a patch of white against the darkness of the night, but did not know who it was. He came down to the beach, passed me sitting at the foot of the tree, and looked down. I saw then that it was Lawson, but since he was doubtless drunk, did not speak. He went on, walked irresolutely two or three steps, and turned back. He came up to me and bending down stared in my face.
"I thought it was you," he said.
He sat down and took out his pipe.
"It was hot and noisy in the club," I volunteered.
"Why are you sitting here?"
"I was waiting about for the midnight mass at the Cathedral."
"If you like I'll come with you."
Lawson was quite sober. We sat for a while smoking in silence. Now and then in the lagoon was the splash of some big fish, and a little way out towards the opening in the reef was the light of a schooner.
"You're sailing next week, aren't you?" he said.
"Yes."