"Yes; they were the ones I had ready,—or, almost ready, to send in."
"Go on," said Crane, briefly.
"Well, there's little more to tell. I went into my bedroom and slammed the door. Yes, I slammed it, for I had lost my temper, and I was mad at Blair."
"And then?"
"I don't know anything more to tell. I heard Blair around the studio for a time, and once I heard his footsteps near my door, as if he wanted to speak to me,—maybe make up,—but he didn't say anything or knock, or call out,—and then, after a time I heard him go into his own bedroom and close the door."
"And you heard nothing through the night?"
"Nothing unusual. The ordinary sounds in the building, of course."
"And you stayed in your room,—in your bed,—till morning?"
"Yes, I did. I sleep very soundly, and I sleep late. The details of the morning, and my finding of Blair,—you know. Don't ask me to recount all that again."
"No; I shan't. Are you going on with your work for the competition?"