Part 19 (1/2)

I'm just afraid we'll have too long to wait! ... Now smile this minute!

Would you leave me stranded on a foreign sh.o.r.e with a lugubrious spouse!”

Then Katrine laughed, and they kissed and embraced, and Grizel slipping her hand through her husband's arm, drew him towards the gangway.

”Belovedest!” she whispered softly. ”_I'm here_!” and Katrine looking down from her towering perch watched the lift of the charming face, caught the swift, mutual glance, and realised that no outside anxiety could mar the perfection of that love. She sighed, but the predominant sensation was relief, not pain. A chapter of her life was turned. She thanked G.o.d that it closed in suns.h.i.+ne!

And now it was the morning of her first day at sea. Tired after her long overland journey, she had retired to bed while her fellow-pa.s.sengers were at dinner, and had slept so soundly in her narrow bunk that on waking there had been a moment's blank bewilderment before she could realise her position. A stewardess stood before her bearing the early cup of tea; on the berth opposite a gaunt, grey-haired woman was sitting, cup in hand, staring at her with curious eyes.

”Mornin'!” she said tersely. ”First introduction. You were asleep when I turned in last night. Glad you don't snore!”

”Goodness! I never thought of that. How awful!” exclaimed Katrine, laughing in her turn. She sipped at her cup, and grimaced eloquently.

”Ugh. What is it? Tea or coffee?”

”Mixed,” replied the other gravely. ”To suit all tastes.”

She drank again with apparent enjoyment. ”Always drink it myself out of principle. Charge you too much to leave out a meal... First trip?”

”First time in my life I ever slept in a berth. I'd no idea they were so comfortable.”

The grey-haired lady fumbled beneath her pillow, placed a pair of spectacles on her nose, and stared across with frank curiosity.

”Bride?”

”I beg your pardon!”

”Unnecessary, thank you. It's my tenth voyage. Met shoals of brides.

You look the type.”

Katrine ostentatiously displayed her left hand.

”I hope that's a compliment. As a matter of fact, I am going out to join some friends in North Bengal.”

”Missionaries?”

Katrine jumped till the cup rattled in a threatening manner.

”_No_! Cer-tainly not.”

”Humph!” said the grey-haired woman, and sc.r.a.ped the sugar from her cup.

”I'm sorry for _any_ girl,” she announced tentatively between the spoonfuls, ”who goes out to one of those lonely plantations... No fun.

No chances. Fifty times worse than at home.”

”Is that so? Really? I'm sorry!” Katrine shook her head, and endeavoured to look perturbed.

The good sleep, the novelty of the surroundings, the glimpse of blue through the port-hole, combined to produce an exhilarating effect. She felt gay and mischievous, too light-hearted to resent her companion's curiosity, but none the less determined not to gratify it. She ate bread and b.u.t.ter, and sipped at the compound liquor in silence, the while the spectacled eyes continued their scrutiny.

”Odd thing--the Indian climate,” continued the stranger in ruminating fas.h.i.+on. ”Changes the const.i.tootion. Never know _which_ way you'll go, but it's bound to be one. _You'll_ grow fat!”

That roused Katrine. Her head twisted round, indignant colour stained her cheeks.