"Still, perhaps it's the way of the world, like ...

like children have the measles ...

and old folks have to wear glasses." She put the pan on the sill to cool and stood there for a time, looking out at the campus, dreamy-eyed, half occupied with her own thoughts and half listening to the conversation behind her.
"There oughtn't to be any such thing as private property--" "Why, Vera, if he kissed you in the dark, you couldn't tell whether he was a man or a girl--" "-- Everything should belong to the state--" "-- No, listen.

Kiss me both ways, and then tell me which you think is the nicest--" A squeal of laughter arose from the bed and, turning, Mary saw that one of the girls was holding the back of a toothbrush against her upper lip.
"Now," she mumbled, "this is with the moustache ...

Kiss me hard ..." "The greatest book in the world," continued the girl with the spectacles, "is Marx's book on Capital--" Mary turned to the window again, more dreamy-eyed than ever.
"The greatest book in the world," she thought, "is the book of life....
Oh, if I could only write a few pages in it ...