It is the skirt-dancing and the poker work that cannot brook rivalry.

The modern woman has begun to find children a nuisance; they interfere with her development.

The mere man, who has written his poems, painted his pictures, composed his melodies, fashioned his philosophies, in the midst of life's troubles and bothers, grows nervous thinking what this new woman must be whose mind is so tremendous that the whole world must be shut up, so to speak, sent to do its business out of her sight and hearing, lest her attention should be distracted.
An optimistic friend of mine tells me not to worry myself; tells me that it is going to come out all right in the end.

Woman just now, he contends, is passing through her college period.

The school life of strict surveillance is for ever done with.