<p>In Memoriam:</p>
<p>In the fall of my senior year, I got into the habit of studying at the Radcliffe library.
Not just to eye the cheese, although I admit that I liked to look. The place was quiet,
nobody knew me, and the reserve books were less in demand. The day before one of
my history hour exams, I still hadn’t gotten around to reading first book on the list, an
endemic Harvard disease, I ambled over to the reserve desk to get one of the tomes
that would bail me out on the morrow. There were two girls working there. One a tall
tennis-anyone type, the other a bespectacled mouse type. I opted for Minnie Four-
Eyes.</p>
<p>“Do you have The Waning of the Middle Ages?”</p>
<p>She shot a glance up at me.</p>
<p>“Do you have your own library?” she asked.</p>
<p>“Listen, Harvard is allowed to use the Radcliffe library.”</p>
<p>“I’m not talking legality, Preppie, I’m talking ethics. You guys have five
million books. We have a few lousy thousand.”</p>