John Brown

d anguish wring the brow.' Our mothers mould our characters, our sisters help to keep us clean, while other men's sisters provide the love and

es and played the old, old game. But, like all women, she loved to tease.

be engaged. We are having two Australians to lunch,

el

als of the British Army. One of them had stolen my little French girl in La Bassée, while anoth

g, John?' in

urday. The Anzacs are cu

lots of girls in this world. A little change will do us good. I'm fed up being respectable. Women are the limit. They're getting too sure

n authori

ed everything from a parlour-maid to a general's

lonel'

udy O

rs under

e on them, yield them your life and soul, and t

re co

hey'r

vils till

ballet-girls to have souls. They trade their charms and squander their affections

oon. You're too trusting. One can't trust a woman. If I

a lot of goodness in modern girls if you care to search for it. Why, they're real sports! Look what they're doing to win the war. They're nursing, driving, ploughing, and cooki

. Seems to me they want only a good time. A fellow with a Rolls-Royce has a better chance than a man with a Ford. Women judge you by your cheque-book. They want to hook the fellow who can give them everything from a pug-nosed poodle to a collar of diamonds.

a woman stra

he most beautiful women like to marry big, strong, ugly, powerful creatures-Neros

rently is made for you, and not for the girl. I'm no great Christia

re a blin

hy

e to-day, as she is busy with the A

arrow-minded about it. Besides, I'm not engaged to the girl. I've an open mind so far as a mate is concerned. I'm simply looking around, and I won't endo

led Beefy, shoving on his cap