silence toward her rooming house, both enjoying the quiet of the evening. It seemed much warmer than before, and Gretchen thought a snow was about to fall. The air had the crisp scent of impending snow. 

 "I am delighted," Professor Bridwell said after a while, "that you were not busy this evening. Surely you must have so many friends. Other engagements." 

 "No," she answered, "I have very few friends. But surely—Antoine—there must be any number of ladies who would be far better company..." 

 "I'm too involved with my books, I fear. Studying all the time; preparing lectures—while the ladies run off with younger rakes." He glanced at her with a teasing half-smile.  "I'll be thirty-five come February." 

 Gretchen laughed to hear him say such things. But she was pleased that she had guessed his age so nearly. 

 "I fear," he continued, "it is my fate to attend concerts alone, and remain unwed all my life." 

 "Well," Gretchen replied, "there's something sad in that then, is there not? Two studious people nearly of an age, with no other attachments."  She looked sidelong at him.  "And with Christmas so near..." 

 "Yes," he agreed, "there is a bit of sadness in that. Have you no family nearby, Gretchen?" 

 "No, they're ALL in Connecticut—too far to visit this year, and my rooming house would hardly be suitable for inviting them to visit me." 

 He laughed pleasantly at this. Yet she did not tell him that she was estranged from her parents. 

 "Besides my family being far away—at twenty-nine, one cannot be forever running home to one's parents, can one?" she asked. 

 "I do understand that," he said.  "Fancy the two of us then, alone for Christmas—it seems rather a shame." 

 "It does indeed," Gretchen answered looking away. Snow had begun to fall, silently and hesitantly. The flakes, drifting between the empty branches of trees along the avenue, seemed as large as walnuts; as fluffy as eider down. 

 The professor laid his hand across Gretchen's gloved hand, suddenly holding her fingers delicately beneath his. She smiled at him, looking at his eyes; his mop of black hair, now bedecked with great white snowflakes. They stopped walking for an instant, and she 

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