Word: brooding
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...Flippie Brood. Since his wife's death last May in a head-on auto crash, Harlech has led a fairly quiet, solitary life except for a series of jet-age visits with Jackie. He accompanied her on a regal six-day tour of Cambodia in November, joined her in February at the Georgia plantation of former Ambassador to Great Britain John Hay Whitney, and escorted her, hand in hand, to Trader Vic's restaurant in Manhattan. Despite their obvious pleasure in one another's company, both have flatly denied rumors of a romance; Harlech says...
Harlech seemingly suffers no embarrassment over his flippie brood. When Jane and her husband were picked up, though not charged, in the company of a pot-stocked party of moor campers, police found their infant son Saffron tucked away in a pile of hay. Jane's explanation: "It was very warm in the hay." Harlech stuck by her. "Jane knows what she's doing," he told reporters. "She's no child." And besides, Harlech himself is not always the model of upper-crust orthodoxy. He recently snowed up at Harvard for an advisory committee meeting...
...inevitably descends upon any one-character work. And it is not with out Mailer's usual excesses. He enjoys his own jokes too inordinately; he protests his right to protest too much, with some of the purplest prose apotheosizing America written since the rhetorical mauve of Thomas Wolfe ("Brood on that country who expresses our will. She is America, once a beauty of magnificence unparalleled . . . tender mysterious bitch"). For the most part, his genuine wit and bellicose charm, and his fervent and intense sense of legitimately caring, render The Armies of the Night an artful document, worthy...
...puck. Last October, Minnesota Goal Tender Cesare Maniago was knocked silly for several minutes by a Hull shot that glanced off the top of his head; he now wears a face mask against Chicago. Bobby is aware that he could permanently injure somebody, but he cannot permit himself to brood about it. "I'm certainly not out to maim anyone," he says, "but the goalies take their chances...
Ulysses Nudged. This is a list, like the criminal archives of the homicide bureau, for the social anthropologist and the moralist to brood upon. Many of the items on these dolorous statistics may make one skeptical of universal literacy...