Some way out would be found.

War was a hellish, horrible, hideous thing--too horrible and hideous to happen in the twentieth century between civilized nations.

The mere thought of it was hideous, and made Walter unhappy in its threat to the beauty of life.

He would not think of it--he would resolutely put it out of his mind.

How beautiful the old Glen was, in its August ripeness, with its chain of bowery old homesteads, tilled meadows and quiet gardens.