Word: woke
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...woke up in the morning feeling that I had passed through a nightmare, and as soon as I had remembered the events of the night before I sat up in bed and reached with trembling hands for the newspapers which were beside me. As I read them one by one, I was filled with a feeling, first of indignation, then of astonishment, and then of amusement. Of my voice they said practically nothing. They seemed to be concerned solely with my powers as an actress. . . . And I know that in those days I could...
...chance. So he went home walking because he had used his last cent on the taxi. He is very generus. So your old girl friends rates a rill Harvard dance and tries out the green tafeta on the halls of lerning. Ha. Ha. It is about time that Harvard woke up and got a little bit colleege. This having a brother what goes to a correspondents school rooks the works. There dances don't come often, ha, ha, and a girl has to have some education in her life. Which makes me think (don't laff at that) about Mister...
Friday. It was raining when I woke up. Heard that Jones W. ("Messy") Mesereau (President of the U. S. Lawn Tennis Association) is fussing because I am writing for French newspapers. He thinks it affects my amateur standing, but I don't think he interprets the player-writer rule correctly. . . Spent the morning writing an article supposed to be an analysis of Suzanne Lenglen's style. What these editors like is a few measured generalities. . . . Rain cleared in the afternoon. Tea at the Casino...
This week the Fenway is offering "Steel Preferred" with a cast ranging all the way from Hobart Bosworth to Ben Turpin. Just how the latter leaked into the picture is still more or less of a mystery. Mayhap he went to sleep on the set and woke to find himself in the film. Another point which has never seamed quite plain to us is just why so many people think that Turpin is screamingly funny because the poor man has trouble with the focus of his eyes. It has always seemed to us that he managed to entertain in spite...
Last Sunday morning they woke up and stared at the wallpaper of their bedrooms. "What," they thought sleepily, "was going to happen today?". With a start they remembered that it was the day for Mayor Nelson's paper, hurried into their clothes and downstairs to where the Sunday paper waited with its many crisp, exciting layers, like a pile of griddle cakes, beside their coffee cups. With what a sinking of the heart they crackled through those layers. Why, except for an extra page about religion, and the fact that there was no "immorality" on the front page...