Word: fidgetings
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...frolicsome production by Gilbert Miller. This time the cutting was done for the sake of compactness, the bowdierizaions being restricted to two or three of the Droadest Anglo-Saxon monosyllables. Libidinous high point of this show is not in the script at all; it is the direction of Lady Fidget's glance when a rakehell named Horner assures her that he is not, after all, a eunuch...
...Horner (Roger Livesey) pretends to be emasculated because his reputation has become such that he is hard put to circumvent the vigilance of jealous husbands. This ruse works well enough in the case of Sir Jasper Fidget, who is only too glad to have such an apparently harmless gallant squire his wife around town, frequent her boudoir. But Mr. Pinchwife, who has brought an artless country wife to London and is in a fine frenzy of determination not to be cuckolded, has not heard the rumor about Mr. Horner and so goes to great lengths to keep him away, finally...
...whose artfully naive mannerisms are perfectly suited to the part of Mrs. Pinchwife. Best laugh in the show is the situation, often drawn for The New Yorker by Peter Arno, of a duped husband coming upon his wife in another's arms. In this case old Sir Jasper Fidget is the cuckold and his remark, greeted with wild laughter from the audience, is a mild "how now?" Born in Wollaston, Mass., now a widow of 40, professionally eccentric Ruth Gordon (Serena Blandish, Saturday's Children, Three-Cornered Moon, They Shall Not Die, Ethan Frame) is said to like...
...chairmanship of the Naval Affairs Committee. Sincerely believing in the largest fighting fleet possible, he is the legislative spokesman of the Navy's General Board. When President Hoover called for an investigation of Big-Navy lobbying by William B. Shearer, he went all in a fidget to his old friend and Harvard classmate, the late Undersecretary of State, Joseph Potter Cotton, who advised him: "Freddie, you've been here 13 years and haven't done a thing. Maine hasn't had a statesman since James G. Elaine. Couldn't you try to be a statesman...
...sounds as ominously suggestive of the passing of time as the regular tramp of feet. Guilty men hear in it the approaching minions of the law and in their terror rush to confess. The imaginative are reminded of tortured spirits to whom death has not meant peace The nervous fidget. Proctors who are in the habit of taking their morning constitutional in the aisles of the examination room ought to be reminded that many men are faced by a blue book and a set of questions are apt to be somewhat anxious, are often feverishly imaginative, and are even inclined...