Crazy Radio eBooks

She had had just one really bad quarter of an hour over them, and that,
back on Christmas Day as it happened, was when Galbraith, having
detained her after he had dismissed the rehearsal, asked to see her
sketches.
"Sketches!" she echoed, perplexed.
"Oh, I don't mean regular water-colored plates," he said. "Just whatever
rough drafts of the things you will have put down on paper to start
yourself off with. It's simple curiosity, you understand."
"But," she gasped, "I haven't put anything down on paper--not anything
at all! I don't know how to draw."
And now he was perplexed in turn. How could one design a costume without
drawing a picture of it?
She explained her working method to him; though not, she felt, very
successfully. She was perhaps a bit flustered, and he didn't seem to be
giving her his complete attention--seemed to be covering up, with the
pretense of listening, a strong interior abstraction.
This was again a good diagnosis as far as it went. Only it didn't dig in
far enough for even the faintest surmise as to what the nature of his
abstraction was.


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