Word: whispers
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Dates: during 1930-1939
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...London the whisper ran down Whitehall that Conservative Party Leader Stanley Baldwin had, with bull-like, bumbling, British common sense, suddenly decided that His Majesty's Government must do the obvious and had carried all before him by brushing aside the nervous scruples of Prime Minister James Ramsay MacDonald and Foreign Minister Sir John Simon. Once again the intuition of Mr. Baldwin proved sound. Overnight almost the entire London Press did a complete somersault. Broadcast was the happy thought that Britain was again to shoulder her white man's burden, this time to impose the Pax Britannica upon the Saar...
...curtain goes up on her regal bed chamber, horns sound exuberantly and woodwinds whisper racy innuendoes. The fun begins. A youth, Octavian, has spent the night with the Marschallin. Trapped there in the early morning, he hastily dons petticoats, pretends to be a maid. Enter a fat old Baron who promptly sets to ogling and tweaking her (him). From then on the amorous Baron is never sure whether his path is being crossed by a lovely maid or a courtly rival. True love, young, starlit and sudden, comes to the stage when Octavian, clad in shining satin and bearing...
...yarn-minded. They are to be seen everywhere, these knitters, whisking their work out of roomy chintz bags, on the steps of Agasaiz, in the Writing room or Lunch room, even in the library with their eyes glued to a book as they knit, and possibly even as to whisper it in the back row at a ecture...
...constantly searching for any sign of relaxation or happiness, and pounce with undisguised delight upon offenders. At breakfast the waiters often stand for thirty minutes without stirring, while a dread silence fills the dining-room and the captains prowl vigilantly, hopeful of detecting an unnatural movement or some strangled whisper...
...fiercest struggles. It has been the gibbet of my execution. It has been the post of my scourging. It has been my throne. It has been my close-stool. It has been my grave. It has been my resurrection. On the platform I have expressed by a whisper, by a silence, by a gesture, by a bow, by a leer, by a leap, by a skip, by the howl of a wolf, by the scream of a woman in travail, certain inspirations concerning the secrets of life that, without any vain boasting, I do not think have been expressed very...