Word: staled
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Last week a lean, ragged, jabbering man fell on his knees before the village church at Coggia. A cross dangled on his chest, a crude crown of twigs sat on his tangled hair. Hoarse with a stale fear, he shouted. "What have I done?" A peasant saw that it was Andre Spada, alone and half-witted. Peasants tugged at his elbow to make him rise and hide from the police. Spada pushed them away, rose and wandered about in a daze, jabbering to himself until gendarmes took him away...
...hours later the anxious family was awakened by a faint, insistent mewing. Mr. Herrick traced the cries to the backyard of his next-door neighbor, Broker John Parkinson Jr. Pushing aside a loose fence paling, he beheld a specially-designed cat trap containing Timothy and the remains of some stale fish...
...Most officials deny any famine exists, but a few minutes following one such denial in a train I chanced to throw away a stale piece of my private supply of bread. Like a shot a peasant dived to the floor, grabbed the crust and devoured it. The same performance was repeated later with an orange peel. Even transport and G. P. U. officers warned me against traveling over the countryside at night because of the numbers of starving, desperate men. . . . A foreign expert who returned from Kazakstan told me that 1,000,000 of the 5,000,000 of inhabitants...
...their leg muscles on treadmills, sweat off fat in a straw box, have their heads shampooed by trainers. Two to three weeks before fighting they spar in spurs covered with leather rolls. Oldtime English trainers fed their fowl a diet of seeds, plants, bark and roots, washed down with stale beer and ale, white wine, sack gin and whiskey. Thirsty trainers drank the mixture themselves, called it cock-bread-ale, cock-ale or cocktails...
...novel were a bit greater, the word "Blup" would doubtless join the Sargasso Sea of English Slang, and if Mr. Wells were not quite so competent in his own regular way, "Blup" would no doubt never be heard of. The theme of the novel is based on the same stale social satire which has been poured by the hogs-heads from the dripping quills of surviving English radicals of the nineties and of American cynics of the twenties. The hero is a prig conceived to be representative of the insignificant conservative. The author explains, by the story, that the prig...