Word: cutely
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Dates: during 1950-1959
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...Florence for his health, wound up as a bubbling, then a fearful, husband. To Philip, his heir in Cornwall, it all seemed plain as day: Rachel and her sinister adviser Rainaldi had murdered Cousin Ambrose. Then Rachel came to Cornwall on a visit and, in no time, her cute tricks had Philip dancing attendance like a puppet. But when Philip began to get headaches and nearly died, the old questions returned. Was it brain sickness or poison? Why did Rainaldi show up? Why did Cousin Rachel allow Philip to think she would marry him, and then back out when...
...open sea. There, thanks to Konomi, Tokyo's gangsters, plutocrats, diplomats, legislators and sybarites could shake off the dust of the city in a palace rivaling Roman Cara-calla's wildest dreams. It boasted 50 private bath and massage rooms tended by a corps of 130 cute, almond-eyed masseuses in pale blue bras and panties. Miss Turko, they all called themselves, in keeping with the Turkish atmosphere...
Lesser functionaries, just as cute, dispensed beer, food, soft drinks and cigarettes. There was a mass milk bath for sensitive males in a huge, raspberry-tiled tub on the second floor; a lemonade bath for ladies on the first. There were private rooms with beds and attendants for after-bath relaxation, a roof garden, a nightclub, a tea room, three restaurants, a barber and a beauty shop. Visitors (among them Errol Flynn) and customers, spending a relaxed Saturday evening at Konomi's Hot Springs, thought nothing of getting a bill of $100 or more. It was, in short...
Minister to Luxembourg Perle Mesta told a Saturday Review of Literature reporter that she liked to have an Air Force band at her G.I. parties. "Those cute things, just 19 or 20, away from home . . . They're just so cunning. They're Perle this and Perle that. Then they'll look shy at me and say, 'Would it be good manners if I used this fork?' " She hoped, Perle added, that people no longer considered her frivolous. "They've changed a little, don't you think? They thought I was just a partygiver...
...always lacks kick. Never very nostalgic, it seems to have come out of the past rather than gone back to it; never very regional, it displays much less the tang of Maine than the trend of Oklahoma! The lack of real lure is basic: the book is too cute and commonplace; the tunes seem reminiscent even when they are sprightly; the lyrics have an arid cleverness. And though George Balanchine is a superb "serious" choreographer, his dances here suggest a few bright ideas plus a farewell wave of the hand. Joe E. Brown is droll and likable; and with...