Word: shawl
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...fill with dry salt grains now that life had left it. The long night seemed to have set in; the trifling airs, nibbling, the clammy breaths, fumbling, seemed to have triumphed. The saucepan had rusted and the mat decayed. Toads had nosed their way in. Idly, aimlessly, the swaying shawl swung to and fro. . . . Poppies sowed themselves among the dahlias; the lawn waved with long grass; giant artichokes towered among roses; a fringed carnation flowered among the cabbages; while the gentle tapping of a weed at the window had become, on winters' nights, a drumming from sturdy trees...
...help America when it gets the Eskimo craze, begins to eat seal blubber and wears its flannels twelve months in the year. Just now the Riffa have got us, and promise to keep us until they have exhausted the Spanish Shawl market and the Morroco Leather Trust. To meet the popular demand Lady Fair has been ground out, and now, on the eve of its New York production it is being given the third degree at the Shubert...
...characters have Souls, lofty or eternally damned. For each date set down there are at least two kisses and three burning looks. And even as David Rock carves his love-pledge on his powder horn in the first chapter, so does saintly Anne draw it forth from beneath her shawl in the last chapter, during a conversation between the two that is full of Cur-woodian epithets like "dear," "sweet," "precious," "hallowed." Perdita
...emphasize this appeal, posters in streetcars, on the pillars of subway stations, the billboards of vacant lots, present the picture of a woman in a shawl. Her chin is pressed to the pivot of her wrist; her eyes are smeared with black. She might be any age, this sad, sharpened Jewess; the thing that has pointed her bones and thinned her flesh is not age but weariness; she is the incarnation of the most desolate of physical woes, fatigue. "Are You Tired of Giving?" asks the caption. "You Don't Know What It Is to Be Tired...
...Story. Victor Campion was born at The Maples on his father's birthday. His advent was hastened by a spring gust off the Delaware that blew a little white shawl from Mamma's neck into the face of Papa's skittish new filly. Papa was pitched on his head in the drive, never to see his heir. Mamma crumpled on the steps...