Word: spats
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...further matter for exclamation, in such thumbnail flicks as these: "His normal expression was one of patient self-confidence, varied by lapses into great mobility when he was exercised by a business suggestion or anxious to be effective. Then he gesticulated, brought his face nearer to his interlocutor and spat slightly as he became emphatic. Finally he would wipe himself up so to speak and become suddenly immobile again, with his face interrogative and a little askew." . . . "No one could be so learned and wise and clever as Dr. Nicholas Murray Butler is certified to be by practically...
Although matters touching highest offices of State thus hung in the balance, what seemed to be the trouble was a spat between "Rumania's two Mrs. Simpsons," for in this respect the little kingdom has doubled up on Great Britain. Bucharest's potent Mrs. Simpson No. 1 is titian-haired, curvesome Mme Magda Lupescu, the Jewish companion and adviser of the King. His Majesty feels that his "sacrifice" in not marrying his Mrs. Simpson No. 1 is one which leaves all Rumania under a debt of gratitude to the Throne. In holding this opinion King Carol glosses over...
...understand. . . . Unforgivable and shameful . . . simply a disgrace and death to the cause! . . . Yet here you are busy with the devil knows what kind of dirty business! ... If we don't break with the Central Committee and with the Council, then we shall only be worthy of being spat at." When he knows he is right he never stops saying so until he gets his way: "Again and again I repeat: this is the only salvation...
...valleys too. Once Noel had the unpleasant experience of hearing a third act (of Sirocco) drowned in boos, of being literally spat on by a waiting crowd -In Red Peppers, one of the nine plays in Tonight at 8:30, which closed abruptly in Manhattan fortnight ago when Author Coward took to his bed with laryngitis (TIME, March 22). at the stage door. He gave the crowd a furious look, sent his overcoat to the cleaners. Twice he has tired of it all, taken his shattered nerves on world-weary cruises...
...kicked our hand and the soup can off his snout. Blood flowed like a waterfall. He jumped to his feet and wriggled free from the professor who tried to grab him as he leaped to the floor. He spat malevolently at both of us. And he fled with a shriek of triumph through the open door...