Word: peaches
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...play, was ahead of them. Budgetman Dawes, in fine fettle, wore a brown striped suit, a brown hat. The smell of his pipe led all visitors directly to his cabin. That newspapers kept referring to his nephew, Rufus C. Beach, Chicago attorney now on the Dominican Commission, as "Rupert Peach" caused him vast amusement. Questions ("Did you convert Marshal Foch from cigarets to a pipe?" "Will you be the next ambassador to Great Britain?") he parried with a gruff "Nothing doing...
Only for the most feminine of ladies is the velvet-hung bedroom by John Well-born Root of Chicago. Peach-rose, grey and silver are the dominant shades. A mirror, framed with willowy figures in black and white etched glass, is lighted indirectly from behind. Visitors are captivated by the semicircular pewter dressing table and swivel chair for the convenient or pensive rotation of the owner...
...little time in place of the various intellectual stimuli offered in and around the Yard he must substitute references to the lily fields of Bermuda and the warmth of the surf at Waikiki, to the blooming of the tulips in the Bois de Boulogne and the peach trees in Georgia, to the sunrises on Mt. Washington and the sunsets in the Golden Gate, and perhaps as well for if space can be conquered, why should time be a barrier? to the midnight sun at the North Cape. These by no means exhaust his opportunities; he has a quantity of other...
...look up the general ineptitude, flagrant piracy, and sneering aristocracy that he pointedly ascribes to the Elephant. But the first Tuesday was a troublous time for every one, from the Head of the Pharmacists down: and in the chaos, the pirates have begun to peach on one another. There may be some names in this to be hung in a smaller, local room beside the vast public gallery dedicated to Fall-Doheny-Sinclair. At least the Democrats are entitled to hold that smile, and perhaps to scribble Governor Square down under a sub-head in their long list of Horrible...
...Steel Inventor, in last week from Brazil. Health inspectors were about to fumigate her. The crew fastened doors and hatches. All was quiet below. The boat rocked a little; chains scraped; water tattled against the hull. Then a sweetish odor came upon the hidden men, like the taste of peach stone kernels. Seven of them collapsed, limply, dead from the hydrocyanic acid gas used for the fumigation...