Veronica set her reticule on the little nightstand in her room and looked around. Although she'd booked a first-class berth, everything was small, with barely enough room for her to turn around in her skirt, and she barely wore a bustle. The bed sat under the window with the nightstand between it and the door to the water closet, which held a shower, sink, and toilet. She admired the modern touch of the shower but wondered how she'd manage to fit in there, skirts and all, to take care of other business. Ah, well, she'd figure it out. Women always did.
There was a little writing desk that folded down from the wall opposite the bed, presumably so one could sit upon the bed and do one's correspondence. Not that there would be any way to mail anything beyond the limited supply of carrier pige
