Word: lunches
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...father," retorted Corporal John, as he slipped away to don "civies" and lunch with the President and his mother and the Camp Commandant...
...smoking rule among his employes. They could chew if they wanted to. He cultivated, however, a taste for wine and a proficiency of tact worthy of one of the scrupulous courtiers of Louis IV. Once an employe who had been accused of excessive drinking came to him while he lunched and began passionately to repel the slander. Lawson listened with courtesy but without concentration to the man's stammered protestations. At their conclusion he directed the waiter to bring to the table a bottle of Imperial Toquay, and having filled two glasses, said; "Your health, my friend." Eugene Field, that...
Some time ago one Herbert S. Ward, government employe, was sent to Alexandria (in Virgina, across the Potomac, scarcely six or eight miles from Washington). He did his business and spent $1.50 for lunch. He put in a bill for his lunch money. Controller General McCarl, -"watchdog of the Federal Treasury," refused to pay thebill, contending that Ward had not been sent "traveling away from his post of duty" within the meaning of the statute...
...hiatus occurred in the conversations at lunch time. At the French Embassy in Albert Gate House, Hyde Park, a great assemblage of dignitaries rendered homage to M. de Fleurian's cuisine. Most distinguished of the guests was Alanson B. Houghton, U. S. Ambassador to the Court of St. James's, attired immaculately as ever, owlish in his heavy horn-rimmed spectacles. His presence at the political feast, considered a signficant sign of U. S. interest in the security parley, despite unequivocal and official denials, was a topic of discussion for days after. Rightly or wrongly...
...north side of Atlantic City, N. J., fringing the smoke-blackened Pennsylvania railroad yards, row on row of frame houses slouch over the street like ragged standees at a free-lunch counter. In the daytime, almost no one can be seen along that street, but at night the doors of the rickety houses open and the occupants come forth. Their black faces blend adeptly with the night; their bodies are blurred shadows in doorways, or lazy silhouettes revealed where street-corner bars and laundries drip golden honey into the darkness. They seem not to have a wish in the world...