Word: smelled
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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A.I.R.W.C.P.A. Davis has a small and untidy room-No. 5-on the second floor of the Hótel des Etats-Unis, down a corridor that is redolent with the smell of stale fried potatoes. He works there at a plain wooden table littered with typescript. He is the head of the "Association for the International Registry of World Citizens and People's Assembly." His admirers-in France they are legion-call him le petit homme. In the 26-year-old, carrot-topped, pleasant, shrewd and slightly corny Air Forces veteran they profess to see an authentic symbol...
...wintry seashore where "the moving sands swirl up the dunes and out gullied chimney tops . . . This is the time of smoking dunes." On its good, grave editorial page, the New York Times took note of winter: "Stand by ocean's edge and you can see, feel, hear and smell the grey waters. This is the darkening interlude when the sea changes its hue and forecasts winter . . . snow." And the silk-hatted Wall Street Journal stuck a straw in its teeth and complained against the "tenderometer," a newfangled "diabolical machine [that] actually proposes to tell a man when his Baldwins...
...London, Paula Perks quit her job in a perfume shop, explained that the smell "got me down," went back to pig farming...
...have much news sense. After a trip to Sutter's Mill, he reported in his weekly Star that the great gold strike was "all a sham, as superb a take-in as ever was got up to guzzle the gullible." The rival Californian had no sense of smell, either. For seven weeks, the Californian and the Star ignored the big news. Then they had to shut up shop. Every gullible soul in town had gone tearing off to the gold fields, leaving nobody to buy a paper...
...When He's Down. At this point the other enemies of promise smell blood and close in. While Mr. Shelleyblake is struggling to write the book that he is in fact incapable of writing, he gets a warm note from "Mr. Vampire," a literary editor: "I was so interested to meet you the other night . . . [I have been] looking for someone to [review] the Nonesuch Boswell, and your name cropped up." Mr. Shelleyblake is flattered, and relieved to lay aside his dreadful novel; and his review is enjoyed by all. Unfortunately, his new novel, when at last it appears...