ABSTRACT
In 1935 Kathleen was twenty-nine years old. Pretty as a child, she had grown into a handsome, if not beautiful young woman. She had a tendency to stoutness, due at least in part to a healthy appetite; Rik Wheeler’s biographer Jacquetta Hawkes, who knew Kathleen, dismissed her as “lacking in grace in her appearance.” 1 But she could be quite attractive when she slimmed down. Nora Kenyon noted her new trimness after the six-week journey from Palestine, remarking that K’s new figure made her look much prettier. She hoped her sister would be able to maintain it. 2
