Lane,” Lady Critchley remarked.
“Yes, of ... course,” Orissa replied.
“He will be meeting you at Bombay?”
“I ... expect so,” she answered.
“Then we must not forget to thank you for what you have done for little Neil,” Lady Critchley said. “He certainly looks better since he has been in your care.”
“Thank you,” Orissa said, surprised at Lady Critchley’s gratitude.
She took Neil’s hand to take him for a walk round the deck and before she was out of ear-shot she heard Lady Critchley say to the General:
“That is a very well-behaved young woman.”
Orissa could not help thinking with a wry smile that it was a pity Major Meredith could not hear Lady Critchley’s remark.
Then she thought with amusement how horrified Her Ladyship would be if she had any idea of how the Major had behaved.
‘It is a good thing they cannot thought-read,” she told herself, and forced her thoughts away from Major Meredith to concentrate on amusing Neil.
Although she felt inclined as it was growing near the end of the voyage to relax her rule of having dinner alone, she decided it would be impossible to encounter Major Meredith with an indifferent composure or indeed to bear the scrutiny of his grey eyes.
He would never learn how grossly he had misjudged her, and she could not help wondering whether, if they had met in different circumstances, he would still have wished to kiss her.
Had his action the night he had taken her in his arms under the stars been merely that of a man seeking amusement because it was easy and he did not have to exert himself to find it?
Or had he any different or perhaps deeper feelings where she was concerned?
That was a question to which she would never know the answer, Orissa realised despairingly and wondered because she could not help it if he had ever wished to kiss her again.
Even to think of it was to know that strange happiness of feeling secure and to relive the ecstasy which had made her whole body quiver.
Had that moment of rapture, that moment of glory, been only too commonplace where he was concerned?
Had she been just another woman whose lips he had sought? Just a female whose body perhaps attracted him fleetingly and whom he would forget the moment he set foot on dry land?
She could not understand why the idea made her feel so despondent; why, despite the fact that she hated him for his suspicions and the manner in which he had behaved, she wanted him to remember her.
‘My first kiss,’ Orissa told herself.
She had an uncomfortable feeling that never again would anybody be able to evoke in her anything quite so exquisite, so breathta ki ngly wonderful.
It was the last night on board that she came face to face with Major Meredith walking down the passageway towards her cabin.
She had been to the Purser’s office after dinner to collect some labels for the baggage.
She was sure that everyone else was in the Dining - Hall and that she would not be seen.
She had dined alone as usual and thought that at least after tomorrow there would be fresh food—fruit picked from the trees that morning, and meat and fish that had not been frozen.
However skilfully cooked, there was a sameness about the taste of food which had been refrigerated and which no sauce or gravy could disguise.
Because it was very hot and because all her things were packed, Orissa was wearing only a thin muslin day-dress and her hair was caught up into a big, loose chignon at the back of her head.
“Tomorrow you will see Mama,” she had said to Neil as she put him to bed.
He had gone to sleep clutching his painting-book because he was so frightened he would lose it before he could give it to his mother.
‘It seems strange,’ Orissa thought to herself, ‘that in some ways the ship has become so familiar during the voyage that it is like leaving a house that has been a home.’
She had grown used to the routine: to the Stewards, to the Purser and the passengers she met every day.
She
“Yes, of ... course,” Orissa replied.
“He will be meeting you at Bombay?”
“I ... expect so,” she answered.
“Then we must not forget to thank you for what you have done for little Neil,” Lady Critchley said. “He certainly looks better since he has been in your care.”
“Thank you,” Orissa said, surprised at Lady Critchley’s gratitude.
She took Neil’s hand to take him for a walk round the deck and before she was out of ear-shot she heard Lady Critchley say to the General:
“That is a very well-behaved young woman.”
Orissa could not help thinking with a wry smile that it was a pity Major Meredith could not hear Lady Critchley’s remark.
Then she thought with amusement how horrified Her Ladyship would be if she had any idea of how the Major had behaved.
‘It is a good thing they cannot thought-read,” she told herself, and forced her thoughts away from Major Meredith to concentrate on amusing Neil.
Although she felt inclined as it was growing near the end of the voyage to relax her rule of having dinner alone, she decided it would be impossible to encounter Major Meredith with an indifferent composure or indeed to bear the scrutiny of his grey eyes.
He would never learn how grossly he had misjudged her, and she could not help wondering whether, if they had met in different circumstances, he would still have wished to kiss her.
Had his action the night he had taken her in his arms under the stars been merely that of a man seeking amusement because it was easy and he did not have to exert himself to find it?
Or had he any different or perhaps deeper feelings where she was concerned?
That was a question to which she would never know the answer, Orissa realised despairingly and wondered because she could not help it if he had ever wished to kiss her again.
Even to think of it was to know that strange happiness of feeling secure and to relive the ecstasy which had made her whole body quiver.
Had that moment of rapture, that moment of glory, been only too commonplace where he was concerned?
Had she been just another woman whose lips he had sought? Just a female whose body perhaps attracted him fleetingly and whom he would forget the moment he set foot on dry land?
She could not understand why the idea made her feel so despondent; why, despite the fact that she hated him for his suspicions and the manner in which he had behaved, she wanted him to remember her.
‘My first kiss,’ Orissa told herself.
She had an uncomfortable feeling that never again would anybody be able to evoke in her anything quite so exquisite, so breathta ki ngly wonderful.
It was the last night on board that she came face to face with Major Meredith walking down the passageway towards her cabin.
She had been to the Purser’s office after dinner to collect some labels for the baggage.
She was sure that everyone else was in the Dining - Hall and that she would not be seen.
She had dined alone as usual and thought that at least after tomorrow there would be fresh food—fruit picked from the trees that morning, and meat and fish that had not been frozen.
However skilfully cooked, there was a sameness about the taste of food which had been refrigerated and which no sauce or gravy could disguise.
Because it was very hot and because all her things were packed, Orissa was wearing only a thin muslin day-dress and her hair was caught up into a big, loose chignon at the back of her head.
“Tomorrow you will see Mama,” she had said to Neil as she put him to bed.
He had gone to sleep clutching his painting-book because he was so frightened he would lose it before he could give it to his mother.
‘It seems strange,’ Orissa thought to herself, ‘that in some ways the ship has become so familiar during the voyage that it is like leaving a house that has been a home.’
She had grown used to the routine: to the Stewards, to the Purser and the passengers she met every day.
She
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