Current patterns for women, as formulated by the man in the street, by the movies, in the women’s clubs and lecture halls can be boiled down to one general cut. Whatever she actually is or does, in the stereotype she is a creature specialized to function. The girl on the magazine cover is her symbol. She holds a mirror, a fan, a flower and--at Christmas--a baby. Without variety, activity, or individuality her sugary smile pictures satisfying femininity. Men are allowed diversity. Some are libertines, others are husbands; a few are lawyers, many are clerks. They wear no insignia of masculinity or badge of paternity and they are never expected to live up to being Man or Mankind. But every woman has the whole weight of formulated Womanhood upon her shoulders. Even in new times, she must carry forward the design of the ages. One of the quaint hang-overs of the past is that men are the chief interpreters of even the modern woman. It may be that the conquest of varied fields and the strain of establishing the right to individuality has taken all her time and energy. Or it may be that the habit of vicarious expression has left her inarticulate. Whatever it is, in the voluminous literature of the changing order, from the earnest tracts on “How It Feels to Be a Woman,” by a leading male educator to the tawdry and flippant syndicated views of W. L. George, masculine understanders take the lead. And the strange part of their interpretations is that they run true to ancient form. Old adages are put in a more racy vernacular, the X-ray is turned on with less delicacy, but when the froth of their engaging frankness disappears, hoary old ideas remain thickly in the tumbler. Take the intimate life story of a girl of the younger generation--Janet March--written by that good friend of women, Floyd Dell. The blurb on the jacket of the book announces that she moves toward “not a happy ending but an intelligent one.” And the end? Janet finds her mate and the curtain falls to the soft music of maternity. “One has to risk something,” Janet cries. “All my life I’ve wanted to _do_ something with myself. Something exciting. And this is the one thing I can do. I can”--she hesitated. “I can create a breed of fierce and athletic girls, new artists, musicians, and singers.”