Word: windowful
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...amounts necessary for postage and insurance. What made Clerk Edward Werkheiser, 28, suspicious of two Italianate men in dark overcoats and soft hats who came into the Easton. Pa. post office one morning last week was the shape and weight of the six packages they shoved through the window. The packages seemed identical. Each was about 10 in. long, 5 in. wide, 5 in. deep. Each weighed 6 Ib. Yet the senders, in arguing about the packages' value, insisted each contained something different. They were "gifts," the men said: one package contained perfumery, another clothing, another a desk...
Last week the American Weekly retold as current news the fascinating story of Charles Lange of Port Townsend, Wash., a whimsical businessman who, having raised a school of salmon trout from the egg, keeps them in a pool beneath his office window, trains them to rise at his call, eat from his hand, even jump from the water through a hoop...
About dawn the landlady jumped up in bed as a volley of shots rattled the window panes. Feet thudded down the stairway. A voice cried: "Hell, that's enough -come on." The front door slammed. From a window the landlady saw two men disappear inside a maroon sedan, watched ihe car slip away in the half-light. Then she called the speakeasy. When police arrived an hour later, they found a group of gaping lodgers standing around the room in their nightclothes. Diamond's doctor shifted from foot to foot. A redhaired, wild-eyed woman was mopping blood...
...evening several years ago he passed an antique store on 8th Avenue, and there in the window was a picture of the Glen Cove, smokestacks, calliope and all. When he next returned it was gone. As the years passed Elwin Martin Eldredge grew to feel that he never would find a picture of that steamer. Last week a friend from Boston sent him a Christmas present: a lithograph, faded but well preserved, of the Glen Cove. Collector Eldredge could not contain himself...
Brave, gay, wreaths are in the windows. Trailing ropes of greenery hang in department stores. Thin and bandy-legged men stand on street corners in red suits ringing cow bells. On envelopes are little green stamps emblazoned with the cross of the crusades. An old woman in the South End stares out a dirty window into a dirty street at a delivery truck painted red and green. Young girls in Beacon Hill loop up to a candle smiling winsomely through lace curtains. Mail men stoop beneath vast leather bags full of hopeful verse in bad metre and worn out welcomes...