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chapter-reflow-once.html 15 <p><span>Germany's war Juggernaut by the morning of Monday, August 3, was in full, but incredibly noiseless, motion. I always knew it was a magnificently well greased machine, geared for the maximum of silence, but I felt sure it could not swing into action without some reverberating creaks. Yet Berlin externally had been far more feverishly agitated on Spring Parade days at recurring ends of May than it was now, with "enemies all around" and that "war on two fronts," which most Germans used to talk about as something,</span> <em class="italics">Gott sei Dank</em><span>, they would never live to see. One's male friends of military age--it was now the second day of mobilization--kept on melting away from hour to hour, but amid a complete lack of fuss and bustle. It almost seemed as if the army had orders to rush to the fighting-line in gum-shoes and that everything on wheels had rubber tires. As the Fatherland for years had armed in silence, so she was going to battle. We saw no seventeen-inch guns rumbling to the front. Those were Germany's best-concealed weapons. A military attaché of one of the chief belligerents, who lived in Berlin for four years preceding the war, has since confessed that he never even knew of the "Big Berthas'" existence!</span></p>
17 <p><span>Germany girding for Armageddon was distinctly a disappointment. I entirely agreed with a portly dowager from the Middle West, who, between frettings about when she could get a train to the Dutch frontier, continually expressed her chagrin at such "a poor show." She imagined, like a good many of the rest of us, that mobilization in Germany would at the very least see the Supreme War Lord bolting madly up and down</span> <em class="italics">Unter den Linden</em><span>, plunging silver spurs into a foaming white charger and brandishing a glistening sword in martial gestures as Caruso does when he plays Radames in the finale of the second act of Aida. Verdi's Egyptian epic is the Kaiser's favorite opera, and he ought to have remembered, we thought, how a conquering hero should demean himself at such a blood-stirring hour. At least Berlin, we hoped, would rise to the occasion, and thunder and rock with the pomp and circumstance of war's alarums.</span></p>
19 <p><span>There was amazingly little of anything of that sort. The Kaiser instead automobiled around town in a prosaic six-cylinder Mercedes, as he long was wont to do, just keeping some rather important professional engagements with the Chief of the General Staff, the Imperial Chancellor and the Secretary of the Navy. As he flitted by, the huge crowds lined up on the curbstone stiffened into attitudes, clicked heels, doffed hats and "</span><em class="italics">hoched</em><span>." The atmosphere was</span> <em class="italics">stimmungsvoller</em> <span>than usual, for German phlegm had vanished along with high prices on the Bourse, but the paroxysm of electric excitement which I always fancied would usher in a German war was unaccountably missing. When you mentioned that phenomenon to German friends, their bosoms swelled with visible pride. They were immeasurably flattered by your indirect compliment that the Kaiser's war establishment was so perfect a mechanism that it could clear for action almost imperceptibly.</span></p>
23 <p><span>From window and balcony overlooking the Linden I could now see or hear at intervals detachments of Berlin regiments, Uhlans or Infantry of the Guard, or a battery of light artillery, swinging along to railway stations to entrain for the front. Occasionally battalions of provincial regiments, distinguishable because the men did not tower into space like Berlin's guardsmen, crossed town en route from one train to another. The men seemed happier than I had ever before seen German soldiers. That was the only difference, or at least the principal one. The prospect of soon becoming cannon-fodder was evidently far from depressing. Most of them carried flowers entwined round the rifle barrel or protruding from its mouth. Here and there a bouquet dangled rakishly from a helmet. Now and then a flaxen-haired Prussian girl would step into the street and press a posey into some trooper's grimy hand. Yet, except for the fact that the soldiers were all in field gray, (I wonder when the Kaiser's military tailors began making those millions of gray uniforms!) with even their familiar spiked headpiece masked in canvas of the same hue, the Kaiser's fighting men marching off to battle might have been carrying out a workaday route-march. Then, suddenly, a company or a whole battalion would break into song, and the crowd, trailing alongside the bass-drum of the band, just as in peace times, would take up the refrain, and presently half-a-mile of</span> <em class="italics">Unter den Linden</em> <span>was echoing with</span> <em class="italics">Deutschland, Deutschland über Alles</em><span>, and I knew that the Fatherland was at war.</span></p>
25 <p><span>At the railway stations of Berlin and countless other German towns and cities at that hour heart-rending little tragedies were being enacted, as fathers, mothers, wives, sisters and sweethearts bade a long farewell to the beloved in gray. Only rarely did some man in uniform himself surrender to the emotions of the moment. These swarthy young Germans, with fifty or sixty pounds of impedimenta strapped round them, were endowed with Spartan stolidity now, and smilingly buoyed up the drooping spirits of the kith and kin they were leaving behind. "</span><em class="italics">Es wird schon gut, Mütterchen! Es wird schon gut!</em><span>" (It will be all right, mother dear! It will be all right!) Thus they returned comfort for tears.</span> <em class="italics">"Nicht unterliegen! Besser nicht zurückkehren!</em><span>" (Don't be beaten! Better not come back at all!) was the good-by greeting blown with the final kisses as many a trainload of embryonic heroes faded slowly from sight beneath the station's gaping archway. Germany was now indubitably convinced that its war was war in a holy cause. The time had come for the Fatherland to rise to the majesty of a great hour. "</span><em class="italics">Auf wiedersehen!</em><span>" sang the country to the army. But if there was to be no reunion, the army must go down fighting to the last gasp for</span> <em class="italics">unsere gerechte Sache</em><span>, manfully, tirelessly, ruthlessly, till victory was enforced. Su (…)
    [all...]
chapter-reflow-thrice.html 15 <p><span>Germany's war Juggernaut by the morning of Monday, August 3, was in full, but incredibly noiseless, motion. I always knew it was a magnificently well greased machine, geared for the maximum of silence, but I felt sure it could not swing into action without some reverberating creaks. Yet Berlin externally had been far more feverishly agitated on Spring Parade days at recurring ends of May than it was now, with "enemies all around" and that "war on two fronts," which most Germans used to talk about as something,</span> <em class="italics">Gott sei Dank</em><span>, they would never live to see. One's male friends of military age--it was now the second day of mobilization--kept on melting away from hour to hour, but amid a complete lack of fuss and bustle. It almost seemed as if the army had orders to rush to the fighting-line in gum-shoes and that everything on wheels had rubber tires. As the Fatherland for years had armed in silence, so she was going to battle. We saw no seventeen-inch guns rumbling to the front. Those were Germany's best-concealed weapons. A military attaché of one of the chief belligerents, who lived in Berlin for four years preceding the war, has since confessed that he never even knew of the "Big Berthas'" existence!</span></p>
17 <p><span>Germany girding for Armageddon was distinctly a disappointment. I entirely agreed with a portly dowager from the Middle West, who, between frettings about when she could get a train to the Dutch frontier, continually expressed her chagrin at such "a poor show." She imagined, like a good many of the rest of us, that mobilization in Germany would at the very least see the Supreme War Lord bolting madly up and down</span> <em class="italics">Unter den Linden</em><span>, plunging silver spurs into a foaming white charger and brandishing a glistening sword in martial gestures as Caruso does when he plays Radames in the finale of the second act of Aida. Verdi's Egyptian epic is the Kaiser's favorite opera, and he ought to have remembered, we thought, how a conquering hero should demean himself at such a blood-stirring hour. At least Berlin, we hoped, would rise to the occasion, and thunder and rock with the pomp and circumstance of war's alarums.</span></p>
19 <p><span>There was amazingly little of anything of that sort. The Kaiser instead automobiled around town in a prosaic six-cylinder Mercedes, as he long was wont to do, just keeping some rather important professional engagements with the Chief of the General Staff, the Imperial Chancellor and the Secretary of the Navy. As he flitted by, the huge crowds lined up on the curbstone stiffened into attitudes, clicked heels, doffed hats and "</span><em class="italics">hoched</em><span>." The atmosphere was</span> <em class="italics">stimmungsvoller</em> <span>than usual, for German phlegm had vanished along with high prices on the Bourse, but the paroxysm of electric excitement which I always fancied would usher in a German war was unaccountably missing. When you mentioned that phenomenon to German friends, their bosoms swelled with visible pride. They were immeasurably flattered by your indirect compliment that the Kaiser's war establishment was so perfect a mechanism that it could clear for action almost imperceptibly.</span></p>
23 <p><span>From window and balcony overlooking the Linden I could now see or hear at intervals detachments of Berlin regiments, Uhlans or Infantry of the Guard, or a battery of light artillery, swinging along to railway stations to entrain for the front. Occasionally battalions of provincial regiments, distinguishable because the men did not tower into space like Berlin's guardsmen, crossed town en route from one train to another. The men seemed happier than I had ever before seen German soldiers. That was the only difference, or at least the principal one. The prospect of soon becoming cannon-fodder was evidently far from depressing. Most of them carried flowers entwined round the rifle barrel or protruding from its mouth. Here and there a bouquet dangled rakishly from a helmet. Now and then a flaxen-haired Prussian girl would step into the street and press a posey into some trooper's grimy hand. Yet, except for the fact that the soldiers were all in field gray, (I wonder when the Kaiser's military tailors began making those millions of gray uniforms!) with even their familiar spiked headpiece masked in canvas of the same hue, the Kaiser's fighting men marching off to battle might have been carrying out a workaday route-march. Then, suddenly, a company or a whole battalion would break into song, and the crowd, trailing alongside the bass-drum of the band, just as in peace times, would take up the refrain, and presently half-a-mile of</span> <em class="italics">Unter den Linden</em> <span>was echoing with</span> <em class="italics">Deutschland, Deutschland über Alles</em><span>, and I knew that the Fatherland was at war.</span></p>
25 <p><span>At the railway stations of Berlin and countless other German towns and cities at that hour heart-rending little tragedies were being enacted, as fathers, mothers, wives, sisters and sweethearts bade a long farewell to the beloved in gray. Only rarely did some man in uniform himself surrender to the emotions of the moment. These swarthy young Germans, with fifty or sixty pounds of impedimenta strapped round them, were endowed with Spartan stolidity now, and smilingly buoyed up the drooping spirits of the kith and kin they were leaving behind. "</span><em class="italics">Es wird schon gut, Mütterchen! Es wird schon gut!</em><span>" (It will be all right, mother dear! It will be all right!) Thus they returned comfort for tears.</span> <em class="italics">"Nicht unterliegen! Besser nicht zurückkehren!</em><span>" (Don't be beaten! Better not come back at all!) was the good-by greeting blown with the final kisses as many a trainload of embryonic heroes faded slowly from sight beneath the station's gaping archway. Germany was now indubitably convinced that its war was war in a holy cause. The time had come for the Fatherland to rise to the majesty of a great hour. "</span><em class="italics">Auf wiedersehen!</em><span>" sang the country to the army. But if there was to be no reunion, the army must go down fighting to the last gasp for</span> <em class="italics">unsere gerechte Sache</em><span>, manfully, tirelessly, ruthlessly, till victory was enforced. Su (…)
    [all...]
chapter-reflow-twice.html 15 <p><span>Germany's war Juggernaut by the morning of Monday, August 3, was in full, but incredibly noiseless, motion. I always knew it was a magnificently well greased machine, geared for the maximum of silence, but I felt sure it could not swing into action without some reverberating creaks. Yet Berlin externally had been far more feverishly agitated on Spring Parade days at recurring ends of May than it was now, with "enemies all around" and that "war on two fronts," which most Germans used to talk about as something,</span> <em class="italics">Gott sei Dank</em><span>, they would never live to see. One's male friends of military age--it was now the second day of mobilization--kept on melting away from hour to hour, but amid a complete lack of fuss and bustle. It almost seemed as if the army had orders to rush to the fighting-line in gum-shoes and that everything on wheels had rubber tires. As the Fatherland for years had armed in silence, so she was going to battle. We saw no seventeen-inch guns rumbling to the front. Those were Germany's best-concealed weapons. A military attaché of one of the chief belligerents, who lived in Berlin for four years preceding the war, has since confessed that he never even knew of the "Big Berthas'" existence!</span></p>
17 <p><span>Germany girding for Armageddon was distinctly a disappointment. I entirely agreed with a portly dowager from the Middle West, who, between frettings about when she could get a train to the Dutch frontier, continually expressed her chagrin at such "a poor show." She imagined, like a good many of the rest of us, that mobilization in Germany would at the very least see the Supreme War Lord bolting madly up and down</span> <em class="italics">Unter den Linden</em><span>, plunging silver spurs into a foaming white charger and brandishing a glistening sword in martial gestures as Caruso does when he plays Radames in the finale of the second act of Aida. Verdi's Egyptian epic is the Kaiser's favorite opera, and he ought to have remembered, we thought, how a conquering hero should demean himself at such a blood-stirring hour. At least Berlin, we hoped, would rise to the occasion, and thunder and rock with the pomp and circumstance of war's alarums.</span></p>
19 <p><span>There was amazingly little of anything of that sort. The Kaiser instead automobiled around town in a prosaic six-cylinder Mercedes, as he long was wont to do, just keeping some rather important professional engagements with the Chief of the General Staff, the Imperial Chancellor and the Secretary of the Navy. As he flitted by, the huge crowds lined up on the curbstone stiffened into attitudes, clicked heels, doffed hats and "</span><em class="italics">hoched</em><span>." The atmosphere was</span> <em class="italics">stimmungsvoller</em> <span>than usual, for German phlegm had vanished along with high prices on the Bourse, but the paroxysm of electric excitement which I always fancied would usher in a German war was unaccountably missing. When you mentioned that phenomenon to German friends, their bosoms swelled with visible pride. They were immeasurably flattered by your indirect compliment that the Kaiser's war establishment was so perfect a mechanism that it could clear for action almost imperceptibly.</span></p>
23 <p><span>From window and balcony overlooking the Linden I could now see or hear at intervals detachments of Berlin regiments, Uhlans or Infantry of the Guard, or a battery of light artillery, swinging along to railway stations to entrain for the front. Occasionally battalions of provincial regiments, distinguishable because the men did not tower into space like Berlin's guardsmen, crossed town en route from one train to another. The men seemed happier than I had ever before seen German soldiers. That was the only difference, or at least the principal one. The prospect of soon becoming cannon-fodder was evidently far from depressing. Most of them carried flowers entwined round the rifle barrel or protruding from its mouth. Here and there a bouquet dangled rakishly from a helmet. Now and then a flaxen-haired Prussian girl would step into the street and press a posey into some trooper's grimy hand. Yet, except for the fact that the soldiers were all in field gray, (I wonder when the Kaiser's military tailors began making those millions of gray uniforms!) with even their familiar spiked headpiece masked in canvas of the same hue, the Kaiser's fighting men marching off to battle might have been carrying out a workaday route-march. Then, suddenly, a company or a whole battalion would break into song, and the crowd, trailing alongside the bass-drum of the band, just as in peace times, would take up the refrain, and presently half-a-mile of</span> <em class="italics">Unter den Linden</em> <span>was echoing with</span> <em class="italics">Deutschland, Deutschland über Alles</em><span>, and I knew that the Fatherland was at war.</span></p>
25 <p><span>At the railway stations of Berlin and countless other German towns and cities at that hour heart-rending little tragedies were being enacted, as fathers, mothers, wives, sisters and sweethearts bade a long farewell to the beloved in gray. Only rarely did some man in uniform himself surrender to the emotions of the moment. These swarthy young Germans, with fifty or sixty pounds of impedimenta strapped round them, were endowed with Spartan stolidity now, and smilingly buoyed up the drooping spirits of the kith and kin they were leaving behind. "</span><em class="italics">Es wird schon gut, Mütterchen! Es wird schon gut!</em><span>" (It will be all right, mother dear! It will be all right!) Thus they returned comfort for tears.</span> <em class="italics">"Nicht unterliegen! Besser nicht zurückkehren!</em><span>" (Don't be beaten! Better not come back at all!) was the good-by greeting blown with the final kisses as many a trainload of embryonic heroes faded slowly from sight beneath the station's gaping archway. Germany was now indubitably convinced that its war was war in a holy cause. The time had come for the Fatherland to rise to the majesty of a great hour. "</span><em class="italics">Auf wiedersehen!</em><span>" sang the country to the army. But if there was to be no reunion, the army must go down fighting to the last gasp for</span> <em class="italics">unsere gerechte Sache</em><span>, manfully, tirelessly, ruthlessly, till victory was enforced. Su (…)
    [all...]
chapter-reflow.html 15 <p><span>Germany's war Juggernaut by the morning of Monday, August 3, was in full, but incredibly noiseless, motion. I always knew it was a magnificently well greased machine, geared for the maximum of silence, but I felt sure it could not swing into action without some reverberating creaks. Yet Berlin externally had been far more feverishly agitated on Spring Parade days at recurring ends of May than it was now, with "enemies all around" and that "war on two fronts," which most Germans used to talk about as something,</span> <em class="italics">Gott sei Dank</em><span>, they would never live to see. One's male friends of military age--it was now the second day of mobilization--kept on melting away from hour to hour, but amid a complete lack of fuss and bustle. It almost seemed as if the army had orders to rush to the fighting-line in gum-shoes and that everything on wheels had rubber tires. As the Fatherland for years had armed in silence, so she was going to battle. We saw no seventeen-inch guns rumbling to the front. Those were Germany's best-concealed weapons. A military attaché of one of the chief belligerents, who lived in Berlin for four years preceding the war, has since confessed that he never even knew of the "Big Berthas'" existence!</span></p>
17 <p><span>Germany girding for Armageddon was distinctly a disappointment. I entirely agreed with a portly dowager from the Middle West, who, between frettings about when she could get a train to the Dutch frontier, continually expressed her chagrin at such "a poor show." She imagined, like a good many of the rest of us, that mobilization in Germany would at the very least see the Supreme War Lord bolting madly up and down</span> <em class="italics">Unter den Linden</em><span>, plunging silver spurs into a foaming white charger and brandishing a glistening sword in martial gestures as Caruso does when he plays Radames in the finale of the second act of Aida. Verdi's Egyptian epic is the Kaiser's favorite opera, and he ought to have remembered, we thought, how a conquering hero should demean himself at such a blood-stirring hour. At least Berlin, we hoped, would rise to the occasion, and thunder and rock with the pomp and circumstance of war's alarums.</span></p>
19 <p><span>There was amazingly little of anything of that sort. The Kaiser instead automobiled around town in a prosaic six-cylinder Mercedes, as he long was wont to do, just keeping some rather important professional engagements with the Chief of the General Staff, the Imperial Chancellor and the Secretary of the Navy. As he flitted by, the huge crowds lined up on the curbstone stiffened into attitudes, clicked heels, doffed hats and "</span><em class="italics">hoched</em><span>." The atmosphere was</span> <em class="italics">stimmungsvoller</em> <span>than usual, for German phlegm had vanished along with high prices on the Bourse, but the paroxysm of electric excitement which I always fancied would usher in a German war was unaccountably missing. When you mentioned that phenomenon to German friends, their bosoms swelled with visible pride. They were immeasurably flattered by your indirect compliment that the Kaiser's war establishment was so perfect a mechanism that it could clear for action almost imperceptibly.</span></p>
23 <p><span>From window and balcony overlooking the Linden I could now see or hear at intervals detachments of Berlin regiments, Uhlans or Infantry of the Guard, or a battery of light artillery, swinging along to railway stations to entrain for the front. Occasionally battalions of provincial regiments, distinguishable because the men did not tower into space like Berlin's guardsmen, crossed town en route from one train to another. The men seemed happier than I had ever before seen German soldiers. That was the only difference, or at least the principal one. The prospect of soon becoming cannon-fodder was evidently far from depressing. Most of them carried flowers entwined round the rifle barrel or protruding from its mouth. Here and there a bouquet dangled rakishly from a helmet. Now and then a flaxen-haired Prussian girl would step into the street and press a posey into some trooper's grimy hand. Yet, except for the fact that the soldiers were all in field gray, (I wonder when the Kaiser's military tailors began making those millions of gray uniforms!) with even their familiar spiked headpiece masked in canvas of the same hue, the Kaiser's fighting men marching off to battle might have been carrying out a workaday route-march. Then, suddenly, a company or a whole battalion would break into song, and the crowd, trailing alongside the bass-drum of the band, just as in peace times, would take up the refrain, and presently half-a-mile of</span> <em class="italics">Unter den Linden</em> <span>was echoing with</span> <em class="italics">Deutschland, Deutschland über Alles</em><span>, and I knew that the Fatherland was at war.</span></p>
25 <p><span>At the railway stations of Berlin and countless other German towns and cities at that hour heart-rending little tragedies were being enacted, as fathers, mothers, wives, sisters and sweethearts bade a long farewell to the beloved in gray. Only rarely did some man in uniform himself surrender to the emotions of the moment. These swarthy young Germans, with fifty or sixty pounds of impedimenta strapped round them, were endowed with Spartan stolidity now, and smilingly buoyed up the drooping spirits of the kith and kin they were leaving behind. "</span><em class="italics">Es wird schon gut, Mütterchen! Es wird schon gut!</em><span>" (It will be all right, mother dear! It will be all right!) Thus they returned comfort for tears.</span> <em class="italics">"Nicht unterliegen! Besser nicht zurückkehren!</em><span>" (Don't be beaten! Better not come back at all!) was the good-by greeting blown with the final kisses as many a trainload of embryonic heroes faded slowly from sight beneath the station's gaping archway. Germany was now indubitably convinced that its war was war in a holy cause. The time had come for the Fatherland to rise to the majesty of a great hour. "</span><em class="italics">Auf wiedersehen!</em><span>" sang the country to the army. But if there was to be no reunion, the army must go down fighting to the last gasp for</span> <em class="italics">unsere gerechte Sache</em><span>, manfully, tirelessly, ruthlessly, till victory was enforced. Su (…)
    [all...]
  /external/chromium_org/third_party/WebKit/Source/platform/fonts/skia/
FontCustomPlatformDataSkia.cpp 61 // FIXME: Skia currently renders synthetic bold and italics with
64 // CreateFromName and specifying the bold/italics style allows
  /external/fio/tools/
fio_generate_plots.1 31 .\" \fI<whatever>\fP escape sequences to invode bold face and italics,
  /external/chromium_org/v8/test/mjsunit/
html-string-funcs.js 35 fixed: 'tt', italics: 'i', small: 'small',
function-names.js 119 "fontsize", "big", "blink", "bold", "fixed", "italics", "small",
undeletable-functions.js 112 "big", "blink", "bold", "fixed", "italics", "small", "strike", "sub", "sup",
  /frameworks/base/data/fonts/
vendor_fonts.xml 19 Providing two means that these two fonts will render regular and bold fonts (italics will
  /external/chromium_org/v8/test/webkit/fast/js/
Object-getOwnPropertyNames.js 81 "String.prototype": "['anchor', 'big', 'blink', 'bold', 'charAt', 'charCodeAt', 'concat', 'constructor', 'fixed', 'fontcolor', 'fontsize', 'indexOf', 'italics', 'lastIndexOf', 'length', 'link', 'localeCompare', 'match', 'normalize', 'replace', 'search', 'slice', 'small', 'split', 'strike', 'sub', 'substr', 'substring', 'sup', 'toLocaleLowerCase', 'toLocaleUpperCase', 'toLowerCase', 'toString', 'toUpperCase', 'trim', 'trimLeft', 'trimRight', 'valueOf']",
  /external/chromium_org/third_party/WebKit/Source/core/css/
FontFaceCache.cpp 145 // Prefer a font that has indicated that it can only support italics to a font that claims to support
  /external/chromium_org/v8/test/webkit/fast/js/kde/
inbuilt_function_proto.js 60 shouldBe("String.prototype.italics.__proto__","Function.prototype");
  /frameworks/base/docs/html/sdk/api_diff/10/changes/
jdiff_help.html 77 Just like Javadoc, all interface names are in <i>italic</i>, and class names are not italicized. Where there are multiple entries in an index with the same name, the heading for them is also in italics, but is not a link.
  /frameworks/base/docs/html/sdk/api_diff/11/changes/
jdiff_help.html 77 Just like Javadoc, all interface names are in <i>italic</i>, and class names are not italicized. Where there are multiple entries in an index with the same name, the heading for them is also in italics, but is not a link.
  /frameworks/base/docs/html/sdk/api_diff/12/changes/
jdiff_help.html 77 Just like Javadoc, all interface names are in <i>italic</i>, and class names are not italicized. Where there are multiple entries in an index with the same name, the heading for them is also in italics, but is not a link.
  /frameworks/base/docs/html/sdk/api_diff/13/changes/
jdiff_help.html 77 Just like Javadoc, all interface names are in <i>italic</i>, and class names are not italicized. Where there are multiple entries in an index with the same name, the heading for them is also in italics, but is not a link.
  /frameworks/base/docs/html/sdk/api_diff/14/changes/
jdiff_help.html 77 Just like Javadoc, all interface names are in <i>italic</i>, and class names are not italicized. Where there are multiple entries in an index with the same name, the heading for them is also in italics, but is not a link.
  /frameworks/base/docs/html/sdk/api_diff/15/changes/
jdiff_help.html 77 Just like Javadoc, all interface names are in <i>italic</i>, and class names are not italicized. Where there are multiple entries in an index with the same name, the heading for them is also in italics, but is not a link.
  /frameworks/base/docs/html/sdk/api_diff/16/changes/
jdiff_help.html 77 Just like Javadoc, all interface names are in <i>italic</i>, and class names are not italicized. Where there are multiple entries in an index with the same name, the heading for them is also in italics, but is not a link.
  /frameworks/base/docs/html/sdk/api_diff/17/changes/
jdiff_help.html 77 Just like Javadoc, all interface names are in <i>italic</i>, and class names are not italicized. Where there are multiple entries in an index with the same name, the heading for them is also in italics, but is not a link.
  /frameworks/base/docs/html/sdk/api_diff/18/changes/
jdiff_help.html 77 Just like Javadoc, all interface names are in <i>italic</i>, and class names are not italicized. Where there are multiple entries in an index with the same name, the heading for them is also in italics, but is not a link.
  /frameworks/base/docs/html/sdk/api_diff/19/changes/
jdiff_help.html 77 Just like Javadoc, all interface names are in <i>italic</i>, and class names are not italicized. Where there are multiple entries in an index with the same name, the heading for them is also in italics, but is not a link.
  /frameworks/base/docs/html/sdk/api_diff/20/changes/
jdiff_help.html 77 Just like Javadoc, all interface names are in <i>italic</i>, and class names are not italicized. Where there are multiple entries in an index with the same name, the heading for them is also in italics, but is not a link.
  /frameworks/base/docs/html/sdk/api_diff/21/changes/
jdiff_help.html 77 Just like Javadoc, all interface names are in <i>italic</i>, and class names are not italicized. Where there are multiple entries in an index with the same name, the heading for them is also in italics, but is not a link.

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