Word: chatteringly
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...underworld pervades his scenes, although he achieves not quite such horrid insinuations as those conveyed by the derbied, white-faced gunmen in Ernest Hemingway's short story classic of lunch-counters and racketeering, "The Killers." But Robertson's comedy is far above par; in his own chatter and the comments of a crowd of rubberneckers gathered about the murdered detective, his idiom bears comparison with that of the great Ring W. Lardner. When the play is not vicious, it is continuously funny...
...prophecy alone did Critic Gushing confine his last week's chatter. In addition he had scrambled together a list of famed musicians' food fancies. It read: "Toscanini. Kraftbruhe mit Ei (consomme with raw egg). . . . Iturbi, caviar on apples . . . Horowitz, Russian cutlets . . . Stokowski, raw vegetables . . . Hutcheson, mushrooms (he grows and eats them) . . . Cortot, bread and gravy . . . Brailowsky, lump sugar . . . Professor Erskine, raw beef . . . the Leners of the Lener Quartet, orange ice . . . Melchior, green apples . . . Gabrilovitch, sardine oil . . . Gershwin, cereal and milk . . . Schumann-Heink, onions . . . Jeritza, cabbage." Most, if not all of this list is verifiable fact...
...they say that good Miss Primson is in her dotage. I cannot believe it. She is just human, subject to moods and the weather. But please take her away from the window and lead her gently back to her rocker, where she might resume her gentle chatter and her knitting; else we might confuse her with that naughty child, the Jester. Manuel de J. Manduly...
...newest pawn in the struggle centered about the juice of the grape is Zaro Agha, recent American Anti-Alcohol importation, who is to incite chatter in Temperance troups and Women's Clubs from coast to coast. From the monotony of doorkeeping at the city hall of Istambul, faithful Zaro has never sought surcease in bacchanalian revel. For one hundred and fifty-six years he has serenely bowed before the city factota and with the same contemplative serenity seen eleven consecutive wives pass from his bed and board into the lap of Mother Earth...
...Milliken, indignant champion of the simpler life, referring to the modern social swirl and "its youth, the victims of exploiters who commercialize it." According to this observer, the stag line is forced to the demon rum to sustain the early morning hours, while no spark of humanity lightens the chatter of female upon female, the monotony of drink upon drink. The debutante, overshadowed by the impersonal magnitude of her hospitality, loses the spontaneity that might have kept the stage from the bottle and thus broken the vicious circle...