Her anxiety was not all selfish. "A test of character!" Was
there nothing, _nothing_ she could do for her own and the general
good?
Suddenly her spirit flew back to the ship. Peter Rolls's face came
before her. She saw his good blue eyes. She heard him say: "If ever I
can help---"
How odd! Why should she have thought of him then? And no one could
help, least of all he, who had probably forgotten all about her by
this time, Miss Rolls having spoiled his horrid, deceitful game. She
must help herself Yet it was just as if Peter had come and suggested
an idea--really quite a good idea, if only she had the courage to
interrupt Miss Stein.
She and Peter had chatted one night on B deck about the Russian
dancers and Leon Bakst's designs. She had lectured Peter on the
amazing beauty of strangely combined colours, mixtures which would not
have been tolerated before the "Russian craze." Now Peter seemed to be
reminding her of what she had said then, a silly little boast she had
made, that with "nothing but a few rags and a Bakst inspiration" she
could put together a gorgeous costume for a fancy-dress ball.
"When you want to set up for a rival to Nadine, I'll back you," Peter
had retorted, and they had both laughed.
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