The Karma of Love (Bantam Series No. 14)

The Karma of Love (Bantam Series No. 14) Read Online Free PDF Page B

Book: The Karma of Love (Bantam Series No. 14) Read Online Free PDF
Author: Barbara Cartland
novel and exceptionally economical type and that her full boiler-power drove her at 15.31 knots in her trial runs in the Clyde.
    What Orissa found more interesting were the passenger arrangements which were quite different from those on the ship in which she had travelled back from India six years earlier.
    In the long covered space under the spar-deck there were on each side two rows of First Class cabins with berths for ninety-five passengers.
    The State-Rooms, of which she and her charge occupied one, were fitted so that the upper berths folded out of the way and the lower berths divided into two, sliding aside into seats so that a table could be placed between them.
    In this way a cabin which measured nine feet by six feet could become a Sitting-Room in the day time.
    The public Saloons were very spacious and impressive extending from side to side of the Citadel house.
    “There are sufficient centre and side-tables in the Dining-Saloon,” a Steward told Orissa proudly, “to dine one hundred passengers!”
    What was far more sensational was that the ship was lit at night by i ncandescent electric lights! Be sides this wonder there was an organ, an excellent piano and, what delighted Orissa, an elegantly carved bookcase containing three hundred volumes.
    She did not see the Second Class accommodation nor that of the Third Class, but she was told they were unusually comfortable.
    “It is a very big ship,” little Neil kept saying to her after she had taken him into her charge. And she had to agree that it was indeed a big ship, the biggest she had ever seen.
    The General, as might be expected, was obviously a military man, lean, wiry, with a skin like leather.
    He had a commanding manner, so that Orissa thought that even when he was trying to be pleasant he addressed her rather as if he was ordering about a new recruit.
    Lady Critchley was in fact far more awe-inspiring.
    She was a cold, severe type of woman who must have been extremely handsome in her youth. But the Indian climate had taken its toll of her complexion, and although she could not have been much over fifty, her hair was dead-white.
    It seemed to Orissa strange that Neil who looked fragile should be going back to India, until his grand-mother explained:
    “The child is delicate, and we thought as the Indian climate seemed bad for him he would improve in health if we sent him home.”
    She looked at her grandson as she spoke and there was a look of displeasure in her eyes as she continued:
    “He has however pined continually for his mother, and my sister with whom he was staying felt the only solution was for him to return to her.”
    “I can understand his wanting to be with his own family,” Orissa said softly, thinking of herself and her own misery at being sent to England.
    “It is exceedingly tiresome and a worry for my daughter,” Lady Critchley said. “She had two other small children. Fortunately her husband will now be in Bombay for some months. The climate there is not so oppressive.”
    She had not thanked Orissa for undertaking the task of looking after little Neil but merely inferred she was lucky to have her fare paid, a sentiment with which she was quite prepared to agree.
    But she could see that Charles had been right in saying that Lady Critchley would have been extremely annoyed if she had been expected to chaperon Lady Orissa Fane rather than give orders to the quiet, sub-servient Mrs. Lane.
    There were the usual dramas before the ship sailed, including passionate good- byes from t hose who were being left behind; a great deal of confusion over lost luggage; stewards being shouted for and sailors hurrying in all directions.
    Standing at the rail on the First Class deck to watch the late arrivals come on board, Orissa noticed there was quite a number of soldiers climbing up the gang-way onto the Third Class deck, their kit-bags hunched on their shoulders.
    They were leaving some very tearful wives or sweethearts on the quay, and
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