Word: musliner
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Wrapped in a shred of muslin and tucked in a soiled sash, the Pink Pearl is taken to Linga, across the Gulf. There appraisers sit with ancient scales, chaffer to the utmost kran,* seal their purchase with a solemn glass of tea. From Linga, the Pink Pearl journeys to Bombay or Bagdad, where foreign experts laud its lustre, symmetry, and flawlessness; drive less ceremonious bargains; swaddle the Pink Pearl in fluffy cotton; scurry back, elated, to the great jewellers of Fifth Ave., Bond St., Rue de la Paix...
...president of the Toyo Muslin Co. (10,000 employes), of Bagnall & Hilles Co. Ltd. (distributor of General Electric Products in Japan), of the Tokyo Commercial Bank, of the Mitsubiki Company (importers of sugar, rubber, iron, steel), of a dozen lesser concerns...
Musically speaking, she had not "done it." To the musically intelligent, it mattered little that 22 years ago Grace Moore was just a little thing in a muslin dress, lisping "Rock of Ages" in a Tennessee Mountain Church. They confined their attentions to the voice which Grace Moore, 27, used to sing Mimi in the special performance of La Boheme which served for her debut. They stamped it as fresh, smooth and appealing, but small, often insecure, often unfaithful to pitch. Her acting, utterly uninspired, was satisfactory by reason of its simplicity...
When wealthy city people move to the country for the summer, their homes, though usually closed, do not remain untenanted. The furniture may be clothed in white muslin dust suits; only the window-buzzing of imprisoned flies may break the silence of the shaded rooms; but in the vacant dwellings a host of people and personages continue their existence without regard to season-smiling the same smiles, making the same gestures, staring perennially in fixed directions...
EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING- Dorothy Aldis-Minion, Balch ($2). Since Stevenson wrote A Child's Garden of Verses many writers have sought to clothe their poetry in the gay muslin of his technique. Since A. A. Milne wrote When We Were Very Young, many, many writers have dressed their fountain pens in bloomers. Yet conscious imitation is infrequent, nor is Mrs. Aldis an exception to the rule. Her poems have most of the graces of their unconscious models. Per-haps the children for whom she speaks are a little too much the product of Al kindergartens and hygienic nurseries...