Word: keepers
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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Still other young mustards with machine guns had by this time burst into the bed chamber of Viscount Makoto Saito, Lord Keeper of the sacred Privy Seal of His Imperial Majesty the Son of Heaven, Emperor Hirohito. Old Saito had been a valiant admiral and from 1932 to 1934 was Premier of Japan. Two machine guns now poked their snouts in his direction and youthful mustards were at the triggers...
Such slams at Air Bureau efficiency kept the atmosphere of the inquiry tense but quiet for four days, with only one consolation for the accused Federal agency: The committee exonerated the Government airway keeper at Kirksville, Mo., near the scene of the Cutting crash. On the fifth day, however, as the committee agreed to extend its inquiry, came testimony of a different sort which finally drew blood in the exasperated yowl from Assistant Director Martin...
...kept them going was not the family lawyer's meagre disbursements but Elie's rich brother, a successful banker. When the bachelors' crazy household finally broke up from lack of funds, Elie was settled in a boarding house and Leon was sent to live in the keeper's lodge on his rich uncle's estate. Leon thought he was getting the best of it, but bad old Elie had the laugh...
...Poor Butterfly story as the blossomy scenes it hovers over: the floating teahouse in the bay; the teacher, the day after the earthquake, holding her class in decorum in the field next to the ruined schoolhouse; the geisha delighting her audience by the entire gamut of tears; the hotel-keeper's children playing gravely with falling petals; the play, lasting from noon until midnight, in which the actors pantomimed and the voices came from the wings; the student serenely explaining that kissing was "not very high-class love...
...editor will seem a complete enigma. Mrs G. . . . to whom he wistfully refers as "the woman who allegedly cleans my room," is a German fran of no mean tonnage and poundage, who keeps both him and his roommate completely under her thumb. Unfortunately for his relations with his redoubtable keeper the editor is far from the paragon of neatness, and at any given time his bedroom looks much like the Biltmore ballroom on New Years morning. Withered as he is by the glare of Mrs. G. . . . when she finds things strewn about the floor, he can never remember...