Word: tweeds
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Franklin Roosevelt was in fine fettle. It was St. Patrick's Day: he wore a greenish tweed suit, a green tie, a green ribbon in his lapel; on his desk stood a vase of green carnations, a pot of shamrock. He was pleased at having a big cat to let out of the bag-General MacArthur's new command in Australia; and he had something else up his sleeve. He had found one of those sly, semi-scholarly parallels on which he loves to impale his more annoying critics, like marshmallows on a toasting fork...
Oblique Chat. The women of London could not so easily forget. Housewives fretted about paying tenpence for limp lettuce and a shilling for fist-sized cauliflower. They muddied their boots and sprained their elderly tweed skirts poking around in wartime garden plots while they dreamed of home-grown peas and tomatoes, talked about with such annoyingly leisured learnedness in Mr. Middleton's column in the Daily Express. Still, it was pleasant to read about-more pleasant than to chat obliquely about the strange restlessness that spring seemed to have released throughout the nation...
Morris Hirshfield, a retired Brooklyn cloak & suit manufacturer, whose skies and mountains look as though they were made of herringbone or tweed, and whose quizzical lions have feminine-looking fur collars. After seeing Rousseau's painting of The Dream he was inspired to try a nude...
...runaway from an upstate farm, who quickly gets himself a job with one of the best wholesale houses in the city-Chevalier & Deming Post. Young Ames has freckles and unruly hair through which in moments of stress he rakes his rural fingers. He is wearing the same brown country-tweed jacket (an Edmonds property) that Dan'l Harrow wore in Rome Haul. He also has indefatigable industry, a bounding business precocity, and a talent, rather uncommon in country boys of 18, for slipping bribes where they will do the most good. "Do you remember my saying you were...
...stiff-necked hell-roarer, the Nazi's No. 1 engineer is a soft-spoken handsome man of 49 who prefers the tweed coat, breeches and boots of an engineer on the job to his medal-decked Storm Trooper's uniform. Seldom seen in public, he spends the time he can spare from his multiplicity of jobs in Munich with his wife and five children. Subordinates like his lack of ceremony, call him "our Doctor...