a white skirt flung on a
chair. Slowly Victoria sank into sleep, conscious of a half dream of
England where so many unknowable things must happen.

CHAPTER II

'No, Molly, I don't think it's very nice of you,' said Victoria, 'we've
been out four days and I've done nothing but mope and mope; it's all
very well my being a widow and all that: I'm not suggesting you and I
should play hop scotch on deck with the master gunner, but for four days
I've been reading a three months old _Harper's_ and the memoirs of
Mademoiselle de I don't know what, and . . .'

'But what have I done?' cried Molly.

'I'm bored,' replied Victoria, with admirable detachment, 'and what's
more, I don't intend to go on being bored for another fortnight; I'm
going on deck to find somebody to amuse me.'

'You can't do that,' said Molly, 'they're washing it.'

'Very well, then, I'll go and watch and sing songs to the men.' Victoria
glared at her unoffending companion, her lips tightening and her jaw
growing ominously squarer.

'But my dear girl,' said Molly, 'I'm awfully sorry. I didn't know you
cared; come and have a game of quoits with me and old Cairns. There's a
place behind the companion which I should say nobody ever does wash.'

Victoria was on the point of answering that she hated quoits as she
never scored and they were generally dirty, but the prospect of
returning to the ancient _Harper's_ was not alluring, so she followed
Molly to the hatchway and climbed up to the upper deck still shining
moist and white. Apparently they would not have to play behind the
companion. Four men were leaning against the bulwarks, looking out at
nothing as people do on board ship. Victoria just had time to notice a
very broad flannel-clad back surmounted by a thick neck, while Molly
went up to the last man and unceremoniously prodded him in the ribs.

'Wake up, Bobby,' she said, 'I'm waiting.'

The men all wheeled round suddenly. The broad man stepped forward
quickly and shook hands with Molly. Then he took a critical look at
Victoria. The three young men struggled for an absurd little bag which
Molly always dropped at the right moment.

'How do you do, Mrs Fulton,' said the broad man stretching out his hand.
Victoria took it hesitatingly.

'Don't you remember me?' he said. 'My name's Cairns. Major Cairns. You
know. Travancores. Met you at His Excellency's hop.'

Of course she remembered him. He was so typical. Anybody could have told
his pr