Word: streamingly
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...really is fear of damaging its reputation that motivates Harvard then why have different rules for the College and the Graduate School's? A scandal is going to have its repercussions no matter where it takes place; a stream of women emerging from Lowell House at midnight or one o'clock is no less a potential reputation-breaker than a stream of women emerging at midnight from the graduates center. Yet the parietal rules for the new Graduate Center allow the men to entertain chaperoned women in their rooms up to midnight (1 a.m. over the weekend), while the College...
...that, though the policy of different rules is inconsistent as regards the public reputation of Harvard, it is really consistent as regards what might be called the private reputation. It can be argued that it does make a difference to the parents and friends of the students whether the stream of girls we are talking about comes from Lowell where the average student is about 19 years old, or the Graduate Center where the average student is perhaps four years older...
...three stories are extremely well handed. Frederick English composed a stream-of-consciousness treatment of a miner psychological Trauma of a pre-adolescent school girl. Written in a style frankly derived from Faulkner, "In Dust" successfully avoids mimicry and artiness, two near constant companions of this style. An abundance of poetic images clogs the opening of the piece, but thereafter it flows smoothly and skillfully. The pace is sustained, and the denouement carried off with aplomb...
Supersonic wind tunnels are rather simple (though very expensive) to build. When their air moves well above the speed of sound, it passes through the experimental chamber in a smooth, even stream. "Transonic" tunnels (close to the speed of sound) are much more difficult. At this critical speed, very important in the study of aerodynamics, the tunnel tends to "choke." Shock waves form inside it, making accurate experiments difficult...
...poet trying to tell you something? Or is he just muttering to himself? On the muddy banks between the clear running stream of communication and the swamp of self-expression squats a swarm of modern poets, patting mud-pies into shape for the admiration of themselves and their playmates. The much larger crowd of regular guys in the swimming hole jeer at these patty-cakers as sissies, but stand a little in awe of them too, seeing how cleverly they mold their incomprehensible mud images...