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As I sat in the hotel room, in total darkness, thinking about these recent developments -- the prospect of machine-woven fabrics, the normally-expectable benefits of the Chicago art show, and what I had learned from the Indians -- I concluded, unhappily, "All that goes on the shelf now.  Into cold storage.  Is adds up to exactly nothing with a war on."  For all I know, Goodall-Sanford might be ordered to devote its mills exclusively to war production.  As for art and home furnishings, I could see no place for my work until peace returned.

The telephone jangled again, interrupting these gloomy conclusions.  Frances suggested dinner.  Her thoughts had been running along the same lines as mine.  We were a glum pair that night, wondering and worrying.

The reception to my hotel display during the next week lifted my spirits a little.  More decorators and