Word: windowful
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...woman and her daughter in the lane, he began to quarrel with them. Mr. Johnson, some said, had had a love affair with the daughter. He ended the conversation by shooting each woman in the mouth. They fell dead. He ran to his home, barricaded door and window. He had another revolver in the house and 150 rounds of ammunition. A crowd of students from Carson-Newman College gathered outside. Murderer Johnson fired into the crowd, killed a football player. With machine guns, tear bombs, automatic rifles, deputy sheriffs tried to get him out. Shooter Johnson returned their fire. Citizens...
...antique Hollis Hall. Thither, every Monday night of college for some 33 years, have swarmed scores of undergraduates from the passing classes. The room they enter is not large. There must first be a good deal of scuffling and grunting before all can be comfortably disposed on furniture, window sills and floor. Then cigarets are borrowed, matches found, pipes gurgled clean, and someone arranges the windows and door to prevent a draft but assure ventilation. Usually there is a search for a pair of eyeglasses, but as "Copey" keeps an innumerable quantity of these, variously ground for varying type-sizes...
Frederic Cayley-Robinson was chiefly distinguished in water colors; his "Foster Mother" shows in oil the earlier field. It is very flat, very delicate and not a portrait, but a silent, taking study of a homely cottage interior. The peasant foster mother sews by a window, a ten-year-old girl sitting on the floor beside her. Before a fireplace are two tiny lambs. Sheep traverse a snowy field beyond the window. One hears the hush...
...sick upstairs; he had come home twice that day from work to give her food. He was expecting the doctor, and hearing a knock on the door he started forward. The sound of more than one pair of boots on the porch made him look out of the window. His yard was full of men. In long white robes they writhed with dismal laughter in the moonlight. They called to him "Come out, Simon." 'My wife's sick," he shouted through the window. A volley of revolver bullets spattered against the front door. Six men in white robes...
Cliff Collins, farmer, went to bed early that night. His house, with every window dark, stood at the edge of some cottonwoods. His daughter, a thin girl of 20 who had cooked for him since his wife died, slept in the next room; his son slept downstairs with his boots on;; his dog slept in the woodshed...