ice. How fine it was for her to attach herself
to some of the real problems of the world rather than bury her talents
in the shallow social activities she might have entered into and come to
regard as her limited sphere, when in reality she had the widest liberty
for the mere seeking and deserving!

I was not present at the reception held at the home of mutual friends,
Mr. and Mrs. Gibson, some three years prior to these events narrated
here, when Gabrielle Tescheron and James Hosley first met. I was out of
town that New Year's eve, and so missed the jolly party at the Gibsons',
although I had been present usually on these anniversary occasions in
bygone years, for the Gibsons were kind friends of ours and pitied our
lonely lot. They lived in the cutest little home in all the great
city--in the most romantic spot you could find when the waning hours of
the old year were danced away by merry feet and jolly hearts sang the
New Year in. Mr. Gibson was a mechanical engineer (not from Stevens',
but from Cooper Union), and he was the superintendent in charge of the
big Produce Exchange building, whose tall, red tower is one of the
landmarks of New York. Their home was a conveniently arranged and
tastefully furnished apartment high up in the tower just beneath the
clock, where, perhaps, you have seen those round windows that look out
upon the world of surrounding harbor and soaring skyscrapers, like tiny
portholes. Those windows of the Gibson home are larger than you imagine
when viewing them from the street. What a spot to meet a charming girl!
Why, I used to lose my heart there every New Year's night as regularly
as the big clock marked the minutes, but it always came back to me with
a bounce six weeks later; the dense atmosphere of romance hovering
there made competition extremely keen. Who would not fall in love in
that clock tower!--far up among the stars, separated from the dull
routine below by encircling fairy lights of harbor, misty outlines of
buildings and busily moving craft--all seemingly in mid-air, flashing
the scenery of a joyland, while mellow chimes of the neighboring Trinity
pealed their glad welcome to the New Year. At that magic moment, when
you pressed far out of the window to hear the bells--she and
you--suspended above that vast expanse of earth, sea and air shrinking
away, as if you two together were flying aloft with arms entwined, you
passed very close to heaven. The shouts from the street were heard