l had an abiding fear that she would grow old
alone--and soon enough become as obdurate as Miss Sadie--a pitiable
spinster with none of the finer sensibilities left to her. Was there
no man, Gretchen wondered, with whom she could share her life and
interests--a man with progressive ideas? Not a man that she, like a
tiny moon, would orbit eternally, but one with whom she could find a
state of mutual orbit. Well, she thought, something of that nature
anyway. Her knowledge of astronomy was not up to the task of finding a
better analogy, and she resolved to remedy that as soon as she was
able. She added another volume--'something concerning the heavens' she
called it--to the list of books she thought she really must read.

Gretchen bustled, thinking these thoughts, dreading her next birthday.
She blew softly on a wisp of auburn hair that had somehow escaped from
the green ribbon with which she tied it back that morning. Several
strands had somehow got into her mouth but her arms were too full of
books--heavy tomes, all--to pull them away with her fingers. She was
on the verge of setting down the burden and tending to her hair for a
moment when, as she turned a corner into the next row, a shadow fell
across the topmost book in her arms. She glanced up in surprise. A
man stood mere inches in front of her--and looked up to find her
bearing down upon him with a full head of steam--even as he stepped
toward her.

"Oh!" she cried, attempting to stop herself. The books slid
irretrievably from her grasp, their pages flying open with a flutter.

The man's arms shot out. "The books!" came his cry of astonishment as
they tumbled about him. He tried to catch a few, left and then right,
but alas they fell--all but one--to the floor with a dull clatter.

"Oh dear," Gretchen whispered, looking down. She feared she had bent a
few pages, and putting a hand to her mouth knelt immediately to gather
them all. "I'm terribly sorry, sir," she continued in a rush as she
piled books one after the other. "My clumsiness..."

"Think nothing of it, Miss," the man replied lightly. "It's my fault.
I do hope _you_ were not harmed by _my_ clumsiness..." He knelt then,
and began to place books upon her stack, starting with the volume he
had saved from falling. The lucky book was one of the late Mr.
Darwin's, and when he glanced momentarily at the spine she blushed
deeply despite herself--for she had that day finished reading it, and
wa