Word: shiveringly
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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There was hardly anybody who did not know somebody who had made a killing in the market. And last week, exactly 20 years after the era of wonderful nonsense suddenly collapsed, there was hardly anybody in Wall Street old enough to remember, who did not shiver a bit at the memory of October...
...groups of U.S. readers: 1) heartthrob hunters who panted with pleasure over Pursuit's hot Paris romance; 2) determined esthetes who gleefully bang their teacups whenever the sharp, wry tongue of their cult leader, Evelyn Waugh, wags through a new writer's prose. Group One will shiver in dry-eyed disappointment over Love in a Cold Climate, Miss Mitford's hot-weather novel for 1949. Group Two will fare better-if they can take their Waugh watered...
...Shivers & Waistcoats. The Chicago Orchestral Association's directors were still not sure about that. After a series of musical fiascos in recent years, they wanted a "great" conductor to resurrect the orchestra's fame & fortune. Said one director: "The board all want him. He's a great musician, though I understand he's a little on the prima donna side. He might be hard for Eddie [Association President Edward Ryerson] to handle." There were other considerations. Said one symphony musician: "Maybe it's just as well if Furtwangler doesn't come. I understand...
...Broadest Grin. On May 7, 1945, Jodl and his colleagues arrived at Supreme Headquarters to surrender. As Kay recalls the scene: "I felt a shiver of excitement. I shoved Telek [the General's Scotty] under the desk, commanding him not to bark. [The Nazis] marched straight by without as much as a glance . . . sour-faced, glum, erect and despicable. They came to a parade-ground halt, clicked their heels and saluted . . . General Eisenhower stood stock-still, more military than I had ever seen him. His voice was brittle." When it was over, and "the Germans half-bowed, saluted...
...faithful. Somewhat later, the tinkle of a little silver bell in the darkness announced the passage of the village priest coming to perform the last rites of the church for Maria. Near midnight a cry went up: "She's sweating! She's sweating!" A deep shiver ran through the crowd. Then, above the dim hubbub of questions, a shrill exalted voice: "She's sweating blood!" "It's a miracle," screamed an old woman, "we'll have our saint." Rumors continued to flash through the dark like scratched matches: Maria was dying, she felt neither burns...