These girls, of this generation, say fourteen to sixteen, _can't_ be stopped." "Then that is a serious matter.

It must be a peculiarity of the day.
Maybe the war left this condition." "The war changed all things, my son," replied his mother, sadly.
Lane walked thoughtfully down the street toward Doctor Bronson's office.

As long as he walked slowly he managed not to give any hint of his weakness.

The sun was shining with steely brightness and the March wind was living up to its fame.

He longed for summer and hot days in quiet woods or fields where daisies bloomed.