Word: abel
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Vanity Fair is constructed like a revolving stage, where city & country and night & day whirl drunkenly together. In the foreground, a naked figure leans out of his window to peer through the gloom at Cain killing Abel in the sunlit distance...
...least one Canadian was sure that the warm spell would continue for a while. Out on the Piapot Indian Reserve, northeast of Regina in Saskatchewan, Chief Abel Watetch could see things invisible to most observers. Muskrat houses this year are not tall, he said, but their walls are thick. Rosebushes have lots of buds, growing close to the ground. Jackrabbits so far have only tiny patches of white on the tips of their ears and on their forelegs. The chief's solemn prediction: six more weeks of mild weather, then a moderately mild winter with not much snow...
...Whitey Abel peered out at the track through high-powered binoculars. The chestnut head of a horse focused in his glass. For a minute Whitey felt as if he were watching a race run long...
Through the glasses Whitey watched. Now they were past the half-mile pole, and the old horse was leading by a neck. Breathing heavily, Honey Cloud lumbered across the finish line with one length to spare. Whitey Abel, as surprised as nearly everyone else at Long Island's Aqueduct track, dropped his binoculars in the excitement. But ancient Honey Cloud, winner of the first race he had run in nearly six years, took it calmly. At the great age of 13 (comparable to a human's 45 years), the old horse stepped into the winner's circle...
...facts behind the story were something else again, too. Oh, the story was all true, said Abel Green-in the sense that he hadn't made it all up. But the story of Marshall Field's "offer," which Variety had attributed to "the Chicago Sun syndicate's spokesman," had actually come from Winchell himself. Had there really been an offer? Said Harry Baker, head of Marshall Field's Chicago Sun syndicate: yes, he'd had a chat with Winchell-at the request of a pal of Winchell's. "I've given no thought...