ALICE PAUL is a slender, frail-looking young woman, delicately colored and delicately made. The head, the neck, the long slim arms, and the little hands look as though they were cut out of alabaster. The dense shadowy hair, scooping with deeper accessions of shadow into great waves, dipping low on her forehead and massing into a great dusky bunch in her neck, might be carved from bronze. It looks too heavy for her head. Her face has a kind of powerful irregularity. Its prevailing expression is of a brooding stillness; yet when she smiles, dimples appear. Her eyes are big and quiet; dark—like moss-agates. When she is silent they are almost opaque. When she talks they light up—rather they glow—in a notable degree of luminosity. Her voice is low; musical; it pulsates with a kind of interrogative plaintiveness. When you ask her a question, there ensues, on her part, a moment of a stillness so profound, you can almost hear it. I think I have never seen anybody who can keep so still as Alice Paul. But when she answers you, the lucidity of exposition, the directness of expression! Always she looks you straight in the eye, and when she has finished speaking she holds you with that luminous glow. Her tiny hands make gestures, almost humorous in their gentleness and futility, compared with the force of her remarks. In the endless discussions at Headquarters—discussions that consider every subject on earth and change constantly in personnel and point of view—she is always the most silent. But when at last she speaks, often there ensues a pause; she has summed it all up. Superficially she seems cold, austere, a little remote. But that is only because the fire of her spirit burns at such a heat that it is still and white. She has the quiet of the spinning top. As for her mentality ... her capacity for leadership ... her vision.... There is no difference of opinion in regard to Alice Paul in the Woman’s Party. With one accord, they say, “She is the Party.” They regard her with an admiration which verges on awe. Mentally she walks apart; not because she has any conscious sense of superiority, but because of the swiftness, amplitude, and completeness with which her mind marches—her marvelous powers of concentration and her blazing devotion to the work.