What's he going to say when I tell him, later on, that his father and myself have had all the war we want, and have decided there shall be no more?
The old folks have had their fun.

Why shouldn't I have mine?
That will be his argument." "You can't do it," she concluded, "unless you are prepared to keep half the world's literature away from the children, scrap half your music, edit your museums and your picture galleries; bowdlerize your Old Testament and rewrite your histories.

And then you'll have to be careful for twenty-four hours a day that they never see a dog-fight." Madge still held to her hope.

God would make a wind of reason to pass over the earth.

He would not smite again his people.
"I wish poor dear Sam could have been kept out of it," said Flossie.