Word: droops
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...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...
...Bateman's Burwash, Sussex, a man of three score years and one packed his bags last week and journeyed in to London. One more honor was to be thrust upon him. Once more he must don garments in which he seems a bent and spectacled waiter whose mustaches droop. When he should stand up before the Royal Society of Literature to receive its gold medal, many a critical eye would be upon him. Dean Inge would certainly make some acidulous remark next day. Lord Darling might crack a senile quip upon the spot. And Louis Raemaekers would be there...
...recently spent some hours at a luncheon, tete a tete with his friend Clémenceau. Mr. Warren declared roundly that he had never seen M. Clémenceau in better health and spirits or more fully in touch with the current situation in France. The famed whiskers may droop like the tusks of an old walrus, but between them the decisive jaw continues to snap with the fierce pugnacity of a bulldog...