Word: drooped
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...gubernatorial candidate the choice was an able, amiable little Jew who now occupies an office across the hall from Governor Smith at Albany-Attorney-General Albert Ottinger. For its senatorial candidate the party looked far aloof and picked out no less a personage than droop-lidded, bespectacled Alanson Bigelow Houghton, U. S. Ambassador to the Court of St. James's, famed debunker of hands-across-the-sea, prosperous glassmaker of Corning, N. Y. Mr. Houghton, in London, accepted the nomination, started home...
Author Marshall has contrived a credible and moving history of an idealist who pursued other phantoms than those chased by big businessmen and shady politicians in the late years of the last century, but he has allowed his selective faculty to droop. There is divagation, fumbling with incidents and words. Force penetrates these defects; in spite of them the story progresses, with power but without smoothness, like an ore truck with one square wheel...
...Clemente vents her jealousy and disapproval of Crystal's wild-honeymoons, by telling all to the newspapers. That is where the narrator comes in, as an astute young literata fresh from the wheat belt, starved for silk lingerie and articulate courtship. An editor from whose gentle, sadistic lip cigarets droop two and three at a time; a svelte social secretary from Virginia who has come through three marriages with a rope scar around her neck and a bright-haired daughter, but without rings or crowsfeet; an aged German baron with a limp and many liaisons; a social-climbing physician whose...
...went no farther than Egypt, returned to Paris without his army. Everyone knows the rest of the story?the coup d' etat . . . imperial crown of golden laurel leaves . . .Austerlitz and "name your children after me" ... a treaty on a raft at Tilsit . . . the comet begins to droop . . . conqueror of a burning Moscow . . . Leipsig and puny Elba . . . Waterloo and hellish St. Helena...
...would sniff at the dank air, would think he could hear the paint cracking on the pictures. Outdoors, on the grey square, he would crane his head up at the rain-spouts, which old artisans had carved in the appearance of fantastic beasts. They were gargoyles, that seemed to droop their eyes in mischievous lure, in vague invitation to Student Mowrey. He pictured the old church standing silent in moonlight, and the gargoyles coming down from their towers for a rowdy riot of dance and clatter. This was material for a symphony, Student Mowrey, cold, sober, realized...