"Drawn from life?" he inquired, grinning to make it a joke. He pointed at the picture.
Without looking directly at her, he saw Maria start at the question. She stared at him intensely for a moment, and after that she became more reticent.
It didn't matter because it was all on the canvases. She had seen as much as he had and more, and put it down with shocking realism. Seen through somebody else's eyes, Miss Green's world was still beautiful; but now it was also frightening. And there was what Maria had said about salamanders.
"Maria," he said, "what actually happened last night?"
She looked at him sullenly. "I don't know what you're talking about, Mel."
"I imagine," he suggested casually, "you were just sitting there in front of the fire. And then—"
"Gosh, Mel, she was beautiful! It's all so beautiful, you know ..." She recovered quickly. "I fell asleep and I had a dream, that's all. Why? What makes you ask?"
She was beginning to look rather wild-eyed, but he had to find out. "I was just wondering," he said, "whether they'd left."
"Why should they leave—Look, you oaf! I called you in to give you the privilege of looking at my paintings. Now get out. I've got to make a phone call."
He stopped at the door, struck by a sudden suspicion. "You're not going to try to sell them, are you?"