Word: sodaed
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...Wellesley is as busy as an A. & P. "Don't panic," the girls tell each other as pre-exam work piles up. But some girls do panic, and a few secretly resort to "bennies" (benzedrine). Otherwise, they worry about their figures, and then at the Well, the campus soda fountain, they gorge themselves on Wellesley Specials (a brownie smothered in ice cream and hot fudge sauce). They play bebop records by the hour, but know more about Bach than any Wellesley generation before them. They are coldly practical about some things, but will gladly dress themselves...
General Manager James Floyd Albright, a onetime soda clerk who began at Cokesbury as a shipping clerk in 1925, has a simple explanation for what makes books so popular in Dallas: "It's aggressive salesmanship. That and a large stock. We want to have books people want when they come in here...
...week's end, 32-year-old Paul Coates had gained five pounds. He had sampled Scotch haggis (oatmeal and suet pudding), frankfurters & sauerkraut, spareribs, and potato latkes (pancakes), still had some 250 meals to go. A thoughtful reader had sent him a tin of baking soda, but Coates was no quitter. Gritted he: "I'll follow through...
...Kierkegaard, Kafka, Connolly, Compton-Burnett, Sartre, 'Scottie' Wilson. Who are they? What do they want?" The speaker, a blimpish Hollywood Britisher in Evelyn Waugh's The Loved One, sucked petulantly on his whisky & soda and stared at his outdated copy of Horizon, Cyril Connolly's British monthly for intellectuals. If he had lived long enough to investigate the matter, he might have wondered how Scottie Wilson, a half-educated furniture dealer turned artist, had ever made his list of the big guns in the 20th Century highbrow arsenal in the first place...
Tito led me to the dining room and seated me on his right. He helped himself to some pale pinkish wine, which he mixed with soda. "Not strong," he said, and recommended that I drink a potent-looking dark wine instead. We had noodles for our first course, and as we ate, Tito told stories. Once in the Soviet Union, he recalled, the Russians had given him a horse that nobody had ridden. With gestures, he described his mad ride, whipping through a forest, ducking branches that ripped his clothes, but never letting go until the horse was exhausted. Fascinated...