summer course.

No tubes shuttled under the Hudson in those days. From the ferry-boat
I was suddenly dazzled with the vision of a towering gold dome rising
above the four and five-story structures. The New York World building
was then the tallest in the world. To me it was also the most
stupendous.

Impulsively I turned to a man leaning on the ferry-boat railing beside
me. "Is n't that the most wonderful thing in the world?" I gasped.

"Not quite," he answered, and looked at me. His look made me
uncomfortable. I could have spoken to any stranger in Madison without
embarrassment. It took me about twenty years to understand why a plain,
middle-aged woman may chat with a strange man anywhere on earth, while
the same conversation cheapens a good-looking young girl.

That summer I met my future husband. He was doing research work at
Columbia, and we ran across each other constantly in the library. I
fairly lived there, for I found myself, for the first time, among a
wealth of books, and I read everything--autobiographies, histories, and
novels good and bad.

Tom's family and most of his friends were out of town for July and
August. I had never met any one like him, and he had never dreamed of
any one like me. We were friends in a week and sweethearts in a month.

Instead of joining his family, Tom stayed in New York and showed me the
town. He took me to my first plays. Even now I know that "If I Were
King" and "The Idol's Eye", with Frank Daniels, were good.