Word: wanly
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...Cheesed Off." For every wan and tired U.S. soldier who walked or hobbled or was stretcher-borne along the quick road home last week, there were stories to tell, though few had lived through what...
Tradition has not been abandoned entirely. Wan and weary maidens still linger at the scene of their betrayal. Here & there a lonely house still groans with memories of ancient wrongs-though in one story the trouble is that the house is not haunted, which creates an unhappy state of "psychic emptiness...
Beneath the wan light of flare shells, the war in Indo-China moved into the seventh year. Said a red-haired Foreign Legionnaire: "We now have the oldest war in the world." To the "Moles of Nasan" the usually frugal French commissary sent Australian beefsteaks, fried potatoes, vegetables, fresh bread, Algerian wine and 3,000 bottles of champagne-one bottle for every four men in the dusty, embattled airstrip. Thai and Vietnamese troops got frozen meat, dried fish and rice; the North Africans had wine, live sheep and goats, brought in by airlift. In a dugout mess 25 feet underground...
...Wan Child, Pale Horse. Dickens and Miss Coutts (pronounced Coots) met, probably in 1835, at the house of a banker named Marjoribanks (pronounced Marshbanks). Dickens was already a well-known journalist, she a leading socialite, a "charmer" whom even the old Duke of Wellington was said to be chasing. Angela put aside all suitors, however, for she had given her heart to the poor. Her profits, she decided, should go with it, and she turned to Dickens for advice in her philanthropies. For more than 30 years, through all the hurry of his vivid career, Dickens found time to investigate...
...exhibited in these children." Again, he describes to Miss Coutts a slum called Hickman's Folly: "wooden houses like horrible old packing cases full of fever for a countless number of years. In a broken down gallery at the back of a row of these, there was a wan child looking over at a starved old white horse . . . The sun was going down and flaring out like an angry fire at the child-and the child, and I, and the pale horse, stared at one another in silence for some five minutes as if we were so many figures...