Word: damp
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...unlike the workshop of a great painter. Instead of easel and brushes, a wheelbarrow full of clay stood in the center of the room, the wooden kitchen table was littered with well-used sculptor's tools, and finished and unfinished busts rested on pedestals or were swaddled in damp cloth. But for all the strange clutter, it was the studio of Britain's dean of portraitists: bearded crusty old Augustus John, still vigorous and sharp-eyed at 74. In the six months, John has picked up the sculptor's knife and found a new enthusiasm for life...
...damp and gloomy confines of Briggs Cage, the undefeated varsity track team moves into Hanover today, bolstered by the return of Bob Twitchell and favored over Dartmouth...
...drink, sing old songs, laugh, and refight the war, and when the nearby Seine bridge was known as "Pont Mamie." But there was also Panama in 1922. Mamie had just lost her three-year-old son, "Little Icky," and was expecting her second. She found herself living amid the damp, stifling tropical heat in an ancient and stilt-supported house. There were bats in the rafters, and tarantulas crept out of cracks in the floor. She learned to know a lot of worlds: Washington, the Army schools, the rainy Northwest. In 1936, when Ike served as assistant to General Douglas...
Buildup. In France to investigate Washington reports of "slow progress, bad conditions and bottlenecks," General Hoyt S. Vandenberg, U.S.A.F. Chief of Staff, found his crews living in damp, crowded tents, tramping across muddy fields to exhume crates of spare parts stacked in the open for lack of hangar space. Ground controllers still radio instructions to hovering planes from the backs of olivedrab trucks, parked near the runways. At the 48th Fighter Bomber's bleak, bare base at Chaumont, the Chief of Staff...
...weak moments he is appalled to think that he has renounced all the normal benefits and joys of life; in others, he feels so proud of his role as defender-of-the-faith that he scorns the city as a place of "streets in the rain . . . plaster statues . . . damp barracks, tuneless bells, tired and misshapen faces, endless afternoons, dirty dusty ceilings...