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tifully their forms lent themselves to design and envisioning a whole new line of fabrics based on the shapes of shells. In time, I did weave these shell-patterns. 

Leon installed me in his huge, eight-room apartment on Nob Hill, 1001 California Street, opposite the Fairmont and Mark Hopkins hotels and the brown, weathered old Pacific Union Club. The view in every direction was magnificent, the shimmering silver bay, grey fog massing against brown foothills to the west, and Mt. Tamalpais to the northwest. Once again there was a mountain in my life. 

Each of the three principal rooms, living room, dining room and library, was larger than our whole apartment in Washington Square. The renowned Elsie de Wolfe had had a part in decorating Leon's apartment, to the degree that she had suggested a few changes. I recognized her touch in the pale beige carpets, celadon-colored walls, French furniture and some 18th Century English pieces.