Word: dusk
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...sunlit view of their country-house garden. He (Henderson Forsythe) is a scholar of distant cultures. She (Frances Sternhagen) is a busy suburban bee. Edward is obsessively irked by a human blight just beyond the garden, an aged, decrepit match-seller who haunts the forsaken site from dawn to dusk with no prospect of selling matches. Edward invites the old man into the house to have it out with him. The matchseller looks like a cross between a Skid Row derelict and a desert-baked Bible prophet, and he remains silent throughout the play. For Edward, the matchseller...
...agents with shotguns, dressed as hunters, stumbled toward the farmhouse at dusk, one carrying the other on his shoulders. Reaching the door, one shouted: "Open, quick! My friend has just been badly wounded!" Veran's wife opened up; the agents grabbed her before she could push an alarm button, let Lavalette and 14 more policemen in. Upstairs they surprised Monsieur Jean stuffing heroin into cellophane bags destined for the U.S., and also uncovered not the usual kitchen-sink and gas-stove rig for boiling down morphine but an ultra-modern four-room assembly line-"a veritable factory," cried Lavalette...
...prophetic crack about Mikoyan, Khrushchev received France's Atomic Science Minister Gaston Palewski. In the midst of their conversation, a messenger burst in. Nikita excused himself, as the minister later recalled, explaining that he had to return to Moscow "for the cosmonauts." Then he disappeared into the dusk of a typically Byzantine-Communist blackout...
...only as the other candidate in a "squash Goldwater" election. It has become too easy to forget his role in reviving the nation's self-confidence and overcoming the Congressional balkiness which plagued his predecessor for two and a half years, to forget the relief we felt in the dusk of last November when the first Southern President in a century pledged a continuation of the Kennedy program, emphasizing his commitment to civil rights...
Outside, the party for Lyndon had been going since dusk along the boardwalk. Irish and Russian dancers, Jewish and Italian singers performed, 31 high school bands and drum-and-bugle corps paraded past, and a flotilla of small boats tooted by in the surf. When the President stepped on the balcony, the crowd of some 20,000 sang a noisy "Happy birthday, dear Lyndon," and soon afterward the President called it a night. It took three tons of gunpowder to light the skies with a huge fireworks show, topped off by a 600-sq.-ft. pyrotechnic portrait of Lyndon...