Word: wealth
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...laboriously engaged in figuring out the wealth of new King Edward as a matter of national and imperial interest are several British journalist-economists. In a preliminary way they were about ready last week to agree that, after all deductions of whatever kind, the actual fortune of His Majesty is piling up ceaselessly at the rate of some $2,000 per day. This is capital increase, not mere income...
...sped north to the metropolis which is fullest of British Communists. Canny fellows, many of these Scotsmen are like Japanese Communists in viewing the Reigning House as their possible ally against the Upper Classes in a last-ditch social upheaval, or at any rate as safe custodians for immense wealth which never ceases to pile up and ultimately may be shared for the greatest good of the greatest number in the United Kingdom. Only people who are not Scottish Communists were in any way surprised last week when these intelligent Glasgow fellows welcomed Edward VIII, by the Grace...
Replied Steel, wholly unembarrassed: "No, Communism has not been achieved in the Soviet Union so far. It is not easy. But your term 'State Socialism' is not exact. Many people refer to a condition as State Socialism when a considerable amount of national wealth passes to government ownership, sometimes for military advantage, even though the majority of wealth remains in private hands...
Sprig of a patrician Boston family whose wealth came from shipping and New England real estate, Eleonora Sears is a great-great-granddaughter of Thomas Jef ferson. Her mother's father was Thomas Jefferson Coolidge, onetime (1892-93) Minister to France. Her father graduated from Harvard in 1875, is currently celebrated in Boston for his habit of taking a long constitutional around Back Bay every day, rain or shine. Frederick Richard Sears's daughter was a late-flowering hyacinth. Her appearance on a polo pony in men's riding breeches caused Boston women's clubs...
Marc adores her like a dog; he is sensitive, goodhearted, naive. Before long Isabelle finds herself becoming very fond of him. But the crowd that buzzes around him, dedicated to "wealth, unchastity, and disobedience to all standards," she finds increasingly hard to bear. Marc has one vice, gambling. One bad evening at Le Touquet he gets drunk, starts to play. Because it is the only way to stop him Isabelle makes a ghastly scene which costs her a miscarriage. After a weary convalescence she decides to leave Marc and marry a young painter who is just her sort...