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very simply with a huge bow as a bustle at the back, but because she had been rather short of material it clung very tightly over her figure in the front revealing the smallness of her waist and the soft swelling of her breasts.
    She felt a little self-conscious when she was finally ready to go down to dinner, wondering whether Lady Critchley would think she was too smart or perhaps too dashing for her humble position.
    But the alternative was either the red dress she had worn the night her Step-mother had thrown her out into the snow, and which had stains on it which she had not yet had time to remove, or a green gown.
    It was for this garment which was some years old, that she had bought the tulle and silk ribbons which she believed would transform it into something a little more stylish than it was at the moment.
    The ship was very warm, but just in case she felt cold Orissa carried over her arm a scarf which had once belonged to her mother.
    It was Indian and had silver paillettes sewn on to a thin net which sparkled and glittered with every movement.
    She had arranged her black hair close to her head and, holding herself superbly with a little extra pride because she was nervous, she went from her cabin to the Saloon.
    She had heard the General and Lady Critchley leave their cabin some minutes earlier and she found them as she expected in the large comfortable Saloon already holding court.
    Shyly Orissa hovered on the outside of the circle when the General noticed her.
    “Ah—Mrs. Lane, here you are,” he said ponderously. “I think it is time we went down to dinner.”
    “The gong sounded some moments ago,” Lady Critchley said with a glance at Orissa to suggest that she was late.
    Then like a ship in full sail she led the way down the stairs to the Dining-Saloon.
    As it was the first night at sea everybody was in good humour.
    There was the sound of popping champagne corks, and it seemed to Orissa as if everyone was talking at the tops of their voices in case they should not be heard above the noise of the engines.
    She had expected the General and Lady Critchley to have a table to themselves, but it appeared that as the most important people on board, they were seated in the place of honour at the Captain’s table.
    Tonight the Captain was not present as he was on the bridge taking the ship out to sea and there were a number of empty seats.
    But there were a Colonel Onslow and his wife travelling to Alexandria, another Colonel who was joining the Nile Expedition at Port Said and lastly two couples of lesser Military importance who were en route to Bombay.
    Lady Critchley was on the right of the Captain’s empty chair with the General next to her. Orissa sat on his right.
    “Do you know India well, Mrs. Lane?” he boomed.
    “I have not been there for some years,” she replied.
    “Your husband is newly appointed then,” the General said. “I imagine he has gone ahead to get things ready for you.”
    “Yes, that is right,” Orissa agreed.
    The General having been conversationally polite then started a discussion with the Colonel travelling to Alexandria and the other officer journeying to Port Said.
    They were all, Orissa found, of the opinion that the Prime Minister, Mr. Gladstone, had been extremely tardy in waiting so long to dispatch an Army to relieve General Gordon.
    “I can only hope they will not be too late,” the General said gloomily.
    “I understand,” Colonel Onslow answered, “that General Gordon’s force in Khartoum consists of only two thousand Turks and six hundred black troops, while the Mahdi’s Army is estimated at fifteen to twenty thousand.”
    “If Wolseley gets there in time,” the General said, “he will easily disperse an Army of untrained, undisciplined natives.”
    “I believe they are having trouble in passing the Cataracts,” Lady Critchley remarked.
    “They are,” Colonel McDougal replied. “Even so I cannot really see why it should have taken as long as it