Women's Weapon, Water-drops.

Each Of Us, When Our Day's Work Is Done, Must Seek Our Ideal, Whether It Be Love Or Pinochle Or Lobster à La Newburg, Or The Sweet Silence Of The Musty Bookshelves.

By Rights You're A King. If I Was You, I'd Call For A New Deal.

A Holiday In A New Dress—can Earth Offer Anything More Enchanting?

But The Best, In My Opinion, Was The Home Life In The Little Flat--the Ardent, Voluble Chats After The Day's Study; The Cozy Dinners And Fresh, Light Breakfasts; The Interchange Of Ambitions--ambitions Interwoven Each With The Other's Or Else Inconsiderable--the Mutual Help And Inspiration; And--overlook My Artlessness--stuffed Olives And Cheese Sandwiches At 11 P.m.

This Fair But Pitiless City Of Manhattan Was Without A Soul ... Its Inhabitants Were Manikins Moved By Wires And Springs.