Word: clare
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When writers paused for breath, Mayes would start talking. By the time he had finished, their names were often affixed to contracts. F. Scott Fitzgerald was one of his authors; so were Sinclair Lewis, Ernest Hemingway, J.D. Salinger, Katherine Anne Porter, Herman Wouk, Agatha Christie, Art Linkletter, Clare Boothe Luce, Ogden Nash, Hubert Humphrey, Jacqueline Kennedy, Lucille Ball and Maurice Chevalier, and most of them are worth a story or two. Mayes treated them with amused kindness, helped them through personal crises and paid them well, even for that golden age of magazines: $10,000 per short story for Somerset...
Talking easily, Reagan moved around the house, stopping once to point out a painting by Clare Boothe Luce of a smiling lion. He took it off the wall to show her inscription on the back, turned over the painting and was astonished to find a live bat, mouse-size and squirmy, clutching the frame. Reagan poked at it with his finger. He recalled another bat that had made its way into the house a couple of years earlier. With Nancy howling in the background, he and Barney had chased that one with a broom and got it out alive. This...
...needs such direct reminders. At the time of the accident, Governor Richard Thornburgh recommended the precaution of evacuating pregnant women and pre-school age children from within five miles of the crippled plant, and thousands of people heeded his advice. "It was awful," said Mrs. Clare Wright, 30, who took her daughter Amy, then 3, to a refugee center set up in a hockey arena in nearby Hershey. Mrs. Wright carried along some clean clothes and a couple of blankets stuffed into a duffel bag, and left behind on the kitchen table a note to let her truckdriver husband know...
...winter of 1973-74, with the English unions and the Conservative government locked in strikes and threats, Strickland becomes active in Labor Party politics, on the side all his well-to-do friends detest. He thinks he is rekindling the socialist torch he carried when young, but his wife Clare scalds him: "You're addicted to your own self-importance and like a real junkie you need bigger and bigger doses to keep going." Strickland also becomes embroiled in an affair with an enormously rich young woman and realizes, belatedly, that she thinks he will break up his home...
Daydreaming about the death of a spouse is a punishable offense in the world of this novel, particularly when the dreamer has a girlfriend with limitless funds and a small portfolio of scruples. When Clare does indeed die violently, Strickland and the London police seem curiously unwilling to suspect the one person who had most to gain from the murder...