He was in a meeting.  He didn't want his mind to stray, but the woman rolling in the pastries hadn't yet looked up at any of the seven men around the table.  She was halfway across the stateroom, nearing them.  His turn to contribute comments was upon him, and yet he felt himself having already been taken over by a compulsion to be seen by her.  He got himself to say to the seated, I agree that we have accomplished something momentous, while noticing that her eyes weren't looking off but were rather lowered in a way too deferential for him to bear.  He fought off saying, You have to look up, you have to make yourself present, and, instead, turned to the gathered and added, But, we must keep in mind that the momentous thing we have accomplished is the least relevant of all the relevant things we could have done.  She had stopped, and stood by the pastry cart.  Say what?, he heard one of the men at the table say.  She was holding her hands palms up and out, awaiting instruction to serve.  A couple of claps from men then followed, and he had immediately stood up and, still looking at her, said, Thank you.  She had stayed still, hidden in her posture.  Gentlemen, he said, I request we take a break so we may serve ourselves…. Even years later, he could recall how the men around the table had all too agreeably risen as one, startling her.  She then looked at him, with eyes too big, as if to ward off a threat.  Almost instantly, he heard himself say, Gentlemen, I'm mistaken.  Let's re-take our seats and be served.  Say what? got said, but the men did drop back into their armchairs.  Her eyes dropped too, back into their humble droop, and she rolled the cart up to the round table.  He noticed how normal everything suddenly felt, and wrote a note to remind himself: Where differences are great, we seek a decorum to follow.