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was a Theta, one of the friends I made in the sorority house days.  She had connections that assured her of a job in Doubleday's book store in New York. She had no particular reason for going there, but I persuaded her that it would be a grand adventure. Unable to find further objections, my parents capitulated. In the early summer of 1923, we boarded the train. 
We soon fould the apartment in Greenwich Village. The rent was $25 a month, a consideration that offset a number of disadvantages. The apartment was on the fifth and topmost floor of the building and there were no elevators. It had not been designed to house two tenants, let alone three. There was a living room just large enough for a table and some other furniture, a small bedroom and a tinier kitchen. A major problem in space would soon confront us. Before leaving California, I had arranged to have my loom crated and shipped to me by sea, the cheapest route. The question of where to