CHAPTER ELEVEN
In a moment he was gone. Cressida got out of bed and looked around for some clothes. The torn cotton shift lay in a corner. There was nothing else. Cressida thought she might have to move quickly when Sandhu returned, so she set to work to make some kind of garment out of the shift, tying it at the back along the tear in a series of knots. She slipped it over her naked body. It was tight now, the thin cotton drawing across her breasts, showing their shape, and taut across her thighs. She looked at herself in the mirror. It’s hardly decent, she thought. But what else is there? There was nothing in the room except a couple of towels and the cotton sheet from the bed. She pulled the sheet off and wrapped it over the shift like a Roman toga. It looked a trifle strange, but at l
