"The first," he went on, "is the newlywed Quickie. The red folder, Mr. Grover. She has just completed her honeymoon, is not pregnant, and has been married for no more than six months." Simon examined the folder. On the cover was pictured a young man carrying his bride, complete with bashful smile, across the threshold of their home. There were suggestive dining room, patio and bedroom scenes inside, with appropriate captions. "The second type," explained the Counselor, "is the new mother." The folder showed a charming young woman breast-feeding an infant. The Counselor went on to the other types: the middle mother, a woman of about thirty with two children, one of pre-school age and one in the first three grades; the teener, with from two to five children in their teens or early twenties; the pre-gram, with any number of married children living away from home, but no grandchildren; and the grandmother. "You understand," the Counselor said, "we have all types in between as well. These are merely the basics." He surveyed Simon's registration papers again. "You're thirty-five, Mr. Grover. A fine age, I might say. You'd be suited to any type, with the exception of the grandmother." "I don't want the grandmother, anyway," Simon told him. "You know, I think I'll take the newlywed this time." The Counselor winked knowingly. "Still a lot of get-up-and-go in the old copter, eh?" "It's spring," Simon said. "Yes. We find it most interesting, that certain types are favored in the various seasons. Newlyweds in the spring, pre-grams in the summer, middle mothers in the fall, new mothers and grandmothers in the winter. Confidentially, Mr. Grover, I've always longed to be a Transient myself. But you have to be a Quickie to hold this job, since you're in one place for such a long period of time. Well, what type of newlywed did you have in mind?" Simon licked his lips eagerly. In Philadelphia the last time he had come close to learning the parting ritual. But it tripped him up, as usual, and he reached New York one step ahead of the police. "She must be very impressionable," Simon said, "and very talkative. She must be eager to discuss the theories of multiple marriage--" "Most newlyweds are," the Counselor pointed out. "Well, particularly so. And, of course, she must not be carrying a torch for her honeymoon husband." "That's rare these days, Mr. Grover." "It happened to me once, in St. Louis. Had an awful time." "Then she probably was a misfit. After all, the institution of multiple marriages is almost eighty years old, and the _only_ form of marriage in the United States today. If we were still in the early pioneering days you might have cause to worry. Ideas of propinquity still seemed important then, and people were concerned with such things as lasting relationships, though for the life of me I can't see why." "They thought it was more secure," suggested Simon.