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Then, when I broke the news to my parents, they had raised another objection. TO have me living alone in the big wicked city would make them uneasy, they said. They would worry constantly. I reminded them that my cousin, Louise Phoebe, was in New York. Yes, they replied, but Louise was married and could not be expected to act as a steady chaperone. I then told that might be described as a beige life, not exactly white but not wholly untrue, either. I said I wanted to work for a Master's degree in education at Columbia. They readily saw the point of that. But they still could not reconcile themselves to the thought of their daughter, alone and unprotected, so far from home. Couldn't I find someone else to be with in New York? I could and did. I knew that Emily Nixon actually was planning to take her master's at Columbia and could arrange, she said, to transfer to the school system of New Rochelle, a suburb of New York. Then I more or less twisted the arm of another friend, Margaret Tinning, to join us. Tinney