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the bus moved away from the curb, then down the street and into the New Haven night.
    "Beckwith, where the hell'veyou been?" "Out, Bernie."

    "I was looking everywhere for you. Did you duck the mixer?"
    *'No/'
    "Well?"
    "Well what?"
    "What happened, goddammit, what happened?"
    Bob waited. Finally he smiled and said, "Let's just put it this way, Bernie: The tie worked."

    NA'HEN HE KISSED HER THE NEXT WEEKEND, IT WAS
    all over. He knew for certain she would be the love of his life. Don t ask precisely how. He just was absolutely sure.
    In the few minutes preceding that fateful embrace, as they were walking from the Vassar canteen to her dorm, he made a final frantic attempt to dry his palms. Again and again he rubbed them against his sweater—to no avail. He could not, therefore, reach for her hand. Instead he very casually put his right arm around her shoulder. This accomplishment, mentally rehearsed all that previous week, was followed by a startling and unexpected development: she put her left arm around his waist.
    What does this mean? thought Bob.
    To any casual observer, it had been an ordinary college date. They sat opposite one another in the library reading all afternoon, went off campus for pasta at Francesco's, and returned to the library, where they both, true to their words, really studied. Not just their books, but each other.
    There were the inevitable biographical details. Sheila was the youngest of three daughters of a Fairfield County physician. Her mother (''the only
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    Democrat in town"), was second-string art critic for the Stamford Gazette. Not only had her parents never divorced, they didn't even want to. Which is probably why both her sisters had married so young.
    Bob's father had taught math at Penn for nearly forty years, during which time he published two textbooks and assembled a vast collection of jokes. C'Oh, that's where you get your sense of humor.") Bob's mother had died when he was barely seven, and Dan Beckwith thought it best to send his son to boarding school. Fortunately, Lawrenceviile was less than an hour from Philly, so they could spend all their weekends together. Weekdays were pretty dismal, though, until the first form, when Bernie Ackerman arrived upon the scene. Even then he was a total madman, walking sports encyclopedia and fanatically loyal friend.
    ''Thanks to Bern, I met my future wife/' Bob said to Sheila at dinner.
    ''Oh?" Her face was quizzical.
    "You," he said.
    She laughed.
    "I'm not joking," he insisted.
    "We've just met," she answered, looking away.
    "Sheila, by their third date, Romeo and Jiiliet were already dead."
    "You're crazy."
    "Yes. About you.*'
    This was over coffee and dessert. No further mention of matrimony was made that evening. Bob felt he had said it all. And Sheila felt he'd just been teasing her.
    But she really liked him. Which is why she put her arm around him.
    At the doorstep of Josselyn Hall there was the usual mob of couples, urgently getting in their final smooches.

    "I wish you didn't have the long trip back to Yale," said Sheila.
    '*Ask me to stay/' retorted Bob.
    "You're never serious."
    ''That is where you're v^ong, Miss Goodhart. I've never been more serious."
    What happened next became the subject of debate for years to come. Who initiated that first kiss?
    ''I did/' Sheila steadfastly maintained.
    ''Come on, Sheila, you were petrified/'
    "And you...?"
    "I was cool. But when I realized that you wouldn't sleep a wink that night, I put you out of your misery."
    "Robert, don't make such a hero of yourself. I remember you just standing there, humming and hawing and blathering about exams, checking your watch every second—"
    "Lies, Sheila."
    "—and my heart melted."
    "Ah."
    "And I said to myself, If I don't kiss him now he may go catatonic."
    "You make it sound like first aid."
    "Well, I'm a doctor's daughter and I knew a basket case when I saw one. Besides, I was already in love with you."
    "Then why the hell didn't you say