Slowly his huge and inarticulate fist traveled to his eye, and stayed there baby-wise. / The young men of today do not cry. They turn Syndicalist instead; dimly conscious in the darkness of the wall that stands between them and the largesse of life that they feel to be their right, and flinging against that wall in an impotent fury of words and blows.
She clutched it in great haste, wrapped her apron about it, and carrying it baby-wise, ran fleetly off, casting apprehensive glances over her shoulder.