“Don’t!” burst from Mabel.
“Why not?” asked Georgia, in astonishment.
“Why, it sounds as if you thought we were going to spend the rest of our lives in the fort,” said Mabel lamely.
“I don’t see why. Surely you would like to save as many of your things as possible, whether we stay there long or not?”
“Oh yes, of course.” Mabel turned away to fasten her dress at the glass, conscious that in Georgia’s eyes she must be playing a sorry part. Georgia thought her dazed with fright, whereas her mind was full of that dreadful revelation which must be made sooner or later.
“Are you nearly ready, Mrs North?” asked Fitz’s voice in the passage.
“Quite,” replied Georgia, stuffing Mabel’s dressing-gown ruthlessly into a full trunk. “Tell the servants to come and fetch the boxes, please.”
“Well, I’m afraid the servants have stampeded to a certain extent. Ismail Bakhsh and the rest of the chaprasis and one or two others are left, and that’s all, but of course they’ll make themselves useful.”
“You see, Mab!” said Georgia, and Mabel understood that she need not expect to see her jewel-case again. They followed Fitz out into the verandah, in front of which were ranged all the vehicles belonging to the establishment, drawn by everything that could be found even remotely resembling a horse.
“I told Ismail Bakhsh to get them out,” said Fitz. “There are the wives and children to bring, and I knew you wouldn’t mind.”