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was one of the most extraordinary looking creatures
I have ever seen. She had a whitish green face
and ginger hair, cut short like a boy's, with a
fringe. During the War, for a short period, I
cut my hair in the same way in London and every-
one stared. It was no wonder, as I looked really
terrible. This girl had very large blue eyes, which
were rather beautiful. She had a very long body
and rather short fat legs. They were both Ameri-
cans, and the strange-looking one had arrived from
New York with six dollars, which was all that she
had in the world. Dowd knew them and I was
introduced. The strange one's name was Bernice
Abbot. She was very shy and seemed to be only
half conscious. She drew extremely well and
wanted to become a sculptress. That seems to be
the ambition of every young American girl. She
took, later on, to photography and, I think, has
taken some of the finest photographs—especially
of men—that I have ever seen. I saw her last in
Paris. I did not recognize her at first, she looked
so beautiful and well-dressed. She was driving a
smart motor-car and had had a tremendous success
in New York.
It was now December and we were wonder-
ing how and where we should spend Christmas.
Christmas Eve is the great evening, and all the
cafes and restaurants keep open all night. The
beautiful Russian, who had been in Finland with us,
had returned to Paris with her husband. She had
married an American theosophist, a devotee of
Rudolph Steiner, and I had met him with Arthur