Word: pinks
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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When Basil Dean suggested that the theatre in England was in a less vigorous position than the American he had probably seen "The Young Person in Pink", For Gertrude Jennings' play, now in its first week at the Copley, is certainly insipid, if not devitalizingly vapid. Three acts of gentle farce, it rests its right to existence on a pink dress, a skit in the best Hyde Park cockney, and--at least in America--on Alan Mowbray's smile. To say, "The smile's the play," is not to vaporize. It is the truth. And all the more surprising...
Morality will continue and magazines will continue. So not alone will the subway sensual glean his grit from pink periodicals of dubious editing, but the uniformed saviour of souls and director of difficulties, moral, matrimonial and vehicular will find some journal of the haute monde of cleverness and thin satire on which to base his belief that the movies are right, that sin sits in high places. There will be times when other papers, with even less to damn them than "Hatrack" and less to sell them than Mencken, rest in naughty niches safe from the gaze of the Bostonian...
...understood there is still Romance, though it be a little tawdry and shopworn from the treatment it gets at the hands of the Hot-Snappy-True Story magazines. And when the audience thought that the Circle was going on the conversational rocks Maugham rushed forward with a pink scarf labelled Romance...
...five-month-old infant was wailing with a concatenation of cries which clutched the mother's heart, sent her running to her baby's crib. She snatched up the child and hurriedly felt for open diaperpins. Then she undressed it to hunt for chafes. The body was pink and dry. Gently she pressed the abdomen, even though the cries were not those of colic. The flesh dimpled under her probing finger. It was firm yet not rigid. Puzzled and worried she dandled her baby a moment and gave it to nurse. The wailing had subsided to choking, interrupted...
Well, the best thing would be to open up this bump very carefully and learn the hidden cause directly. So with a sterilized lancet the doctor, emergency surgeon now, pricked the baby's pink scalp. He pricked again. He heard a minute clink; he felt something hard against his lancet blade. He looked, and there gleaming up at him like a reptilian eye glittered in his incision the end of a steel darning needle...