Word: midwestern
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Sherrill had risen from a poor Midwestern boyhood to a partnership in a big old Manhattan brokerage firm, a house, wife & children in Yonkers, a fat income, fat prospects. On the verge of middle age he still had his health and good looks. But he had fallen in love with Sylvia March Brownlow Wickliffe, pet-named June. A luscious copper-brunette, she fired Sherrill's blood, let him buy her presents, but for a long time would not give him what he wanted. When she became his mistress, he soon found her a hard one. Business troubles, his wife...
Halo Tarrant and her cold husband had come to the parting of the ways even before she began to fall in love with Vance Weston, Midwestern novelist of charming honesty and unstable character. When Halo ran off to Europe with Vance, her husband's cold vanity was wounded; he refused to give her a divorce. For a while she did not mind. She was sure Vance had the makings of a great writer; in the meantime they would have a grand time discovering Europe together. But Vance turned out to be unexpectedly impressionable. New people and places, if they...
...only in Rome were these words spoken last week. In Cleveland's ugly, red brick St. John's Cathedral another bishop was added to the apostolic succession. Present for the occasion was the scholarly, active Archbishop of Cincinnati, Most Rev. John Timothy McNicholas, whose fame in the Midwestern hierarchy is exceeded only by that of Chicago's George William Cardinal Mundelein and rivalled only by that of Cleveland's own Bishop Joseph Schrembs,† who was in charge of the U. S. section of the Dublin Eucharistic Congress last June. Present also were the new Archbishop...
...Other well-known Midwestern prelates: Fort Wayne's Bishop John Francis Noll, influential editor of Our Sunday Visitor; Indianapolis' Bishop Joseph Chartrand, probably closer in contact with his flock than any other; Oklahoma City's Bishop Francis Clement Kelley, well-known in Washington and abroad...
...remaining free time to be taken up by visits to the theatre, the Opera, shopping, etc.," such trips are culturally worthless. They serve only to while away the long hours of retired nutmeg manufacturers, and provide the thin veneer of background to match the slurred R's of the midwestern matron. The refuge for Americans too far developed for the rubber-neck wagon excursions, however, is the American colony in Paris, which has its annex on the Cote d'Or, and which is equally empty of intellectual nourishment and stimulation...