University of Virginia Library

American married men very easy to take from wife,” said Camilla Horn. “I could get any husband if I want. On'y I don' want!”

Camilla is unique. Camilla is extraordinary. Camilla is unbelievable. No publicity genius speaks for Camilla. Imagine a publicity man making such a statement as that. She may indeed be said to be the enfant terrible of the United Artists lot, for off the screen Camilla cannot act or pose.

She came into the room with a rush, on the heels of the studio executive who introduced us. She was wearing an unlovely drab colored muskrat coat and her natural blonde hair was tucked under a tight little toque. I thought at first her eyes were the color of the Danube, but then she told me they were “Any color you like. Maybe brown, blue—green.” They are changing eyes, black-lashed, wide and clear. She grasped my hand, smiled at me eagerly:

“Ach! I t'ink maybe I have also already met you before? No? So many writers I have meet. It is a great pleasure some time. When first I come from Germany, big crowd from newspapers meet me, and I cannot speak English. So they look at me and I see on their face what they think: 'Ach! This Camilla Horn—she is dumb!'”

I laughed, I don't know why; and after a moment she joined in heartily. We became instant friends. Camilla put her arm around my shoulders, as if we had known each other for years and, “Come,” said Camilla, “I will feed you.”