II.
Tuesday afternoon Adrian and Eva paid their first visit to the smoking-room. This was not in accord with their intentions—they had ‘never wanted to see a cocktail again’ after leaving America—but they had forgotten the staccato loneliness of ships, and all activity centred about the bar. So they went in for just a minute.
It was full. There were those who had been there since luncheon, and those who would be there until dinner, not to mention a faithful few who had been there since nine this morning. It was a prosperous assembly, taking its recreation at bridge, solitaire, detective stories, alcohol, argument and love. Up to this point you could have matched it in the club or casino life of any country, but over it all played a repressed nervous energy, a barely disguised impatience
