Ethel Sentence Examples

Ethel Reagan, the writer, noted the tips were telephoned from various locations across the country and provided by both men and women.

Ethel was once again making a daily print appearance, concentrating on the subject of mystic tips, and soliciting comments from law enforcement agencies.

The next day, Ethel Reagan reported in her Boston paper on a personal interview with Youngblood.

The article was penned by our old Boston nemesis, Ethel Reagan.

Ethel Reagan found none that fit her pattern being proved wrong.

Once I was alone again, I pondered my unilateral decision to speak directly to Ethel Reagan as I sipped on cold coffee.

Impatience prompted me to telephone Ethel Reagan before the allotted hour was up.

I'm sure Ethel Reagan had a thousand more questions but she didn't press me.

Yes, Ethel confesses to appointment as the tipster's public representative and seems to be accepted as sorts, in the eyes of her growing public of readers.

I hadn't told him of our miss information ploy to Ethel Reagan.

To kill some time I telephoned Ethel Reagan, ostensibly to thank her.

I owed a follow up call to both Ethel Reagan at the Boston newspaper and Agnes Delanco, at After.

I told Agnes about my concerns for Ethel Reagan's safety.

I used the break in at Ethel Reagan's place as an excuse to have Howie visit both Boston burglaries.

He never got around to the guy who tried to enter Ethel Reagan's apartment.

How did you do on the attempted break-in at Ethel Reagan's place?

It was a Boston and I searched through it, searching to see if Ethel Reagan was still tracking the Psychic Tipster.

There was the customary group of tourists with names like Bud and Ethel and Elmer and Clara— names not assigned to anyone born after World War II.

Detective David Dean had been seeing Attorney Ethel Rosewater three or four times a month for more than two years.

He met Ethel at a cocktail party both were attending by obligation and neither were enjoying.

Small talk progressed to let's-go-someplace-else and before Dean knew it, he was between Ethel Rosewater's white silk sheets.

He recognized Ethel held the door in the relationship, be it the entrance or exit.

Ethel looked at him as if he'd proposed a trip to the moon, stating emphatically the only activity worthy of sweat would take place in her king size bed.

If Dean had been entirely honest with himself, he would have admitted he considered Ethel Rosewater a social-climbing, ambu­lance-chasing bitch.

Ethel would have listed him as a lazy, unam­bitious civil servant with a lifestyle as exciting as limp toast.

When Ethel did the inviting, the function was nearly always out of town.

Ethel was not attractive in spite of spending more money in the beauty salon and boutique than Dean's entire salary.

But in spite of her lack of beauty, Ethel Rosewater was hell on wheels in bed.

Dean did not know Ethel's age and she wouldn't have told him if he had been interested enough to ask.

Ethel was an attorney who specialized in making money, so she never crossed paths with Dean's area of the law.

It's not 'queer' nowadays, Ethel.

Ethel lived in the pride of Parkside, a new six-story luxury apartment building southeast of town.

Ethel always performed her lovemaking in a dark­ened room.

Instead of designer thongs or flimsy lace things, Ethel wore the plainest of cotton panties, the type described by past generations as 'practi­cal.'

As Dean lay in the dark, he absentminded­ly wondered if Ethel always wore "Thursday" when he came to call.

When their lovemaking finished, Dean remained in bed, his arms folded behind his head, awaiting Ethel's return from her obligatory post coital trip to the bathroom.

His mind kept think­ing, not of Ethel, but of Cynthia Byrne.

The toilet flushed and Ethel returned, proceeded in the dark­ness by the tiny pinpoint light of her cigarette.

Although Ethel and Fred had never met, that didn't stop them from developing a strong mutual dislike, fueled via telephone mes­sages and third-party comments.

He felt like a packaged pound of dog meat after slightly less than three hours sandwiched in his warm and comfortable bed between Ethel Rosewater's last frenzied spasm of pleasure and the screaming alarm clock.

Vinnie sounded close to tears as he coughed on another of Ethel's cigarette butts.

Ethel Rosewater called to confirm Thursday night.

He scribbled Ethel Rosewater's name and address on a scrap of paper.

But no comparison to Ethel Rosewater need be made.

He called Ethel Rosewater first, catching her at the office.

Dean wondered if they were speaking about the same Ethel Rosewater.

It was the same Ethel Rosewater.

It was Thursday evening and Dean showered and drove over to Ethel Rosewater's luxury apartment where the preliminaries seemed to move along even quicker than usual.

Later, partway through Act I, Dean asked, "Ethel, how come you always have sex with the lights out?"

Dean showered Ethel Rosewater from his body, shaved and dressed in a daze.

Are you going to marry Ethel Rosewater?

As the congregation filed out the door, Dean was surprised to see attorney Arthur Atherton, Ethel Rosewater's partner and Vinnie Baratto's lawyer, rise from two rows in front of him.

If you must know, Ethel couldn't make it to the service and thought the firm should be represented.

He turned on his heels and left, making Dean sorry he'd mentioned Ethel Rosewater to Cynthia Byrne in the first place.

All he remembered was Ethel Rosewater's bra size and the price of beer at Delaney's Market.

Later that evening, Ethel Rosewater confirmed Cynthia's visit as she was unzipping Dean's trousers.

Dean was hesitant to discuss this or any aspects of the job with Ethel.

His mind was less on Ethel Rosewater than other matters.

Ethel pulled him down on the bed.

The majority of his body was moderately awash with passion and Ethel was as warm and soft as ever.

The only phone message was from Ethel Rosewater.

You don't beat around the bush, do you, Ethel?

That's not funny, Ethel.

Somehow he wasn't in the mood for Ethel's brand of jokes.

After a measure of dead silence came Ethel's cold voice.

Sighing deeply, he told Rita he was finished for the day, jogged down the stairs to his car, and fought the late afternoon crosstown traffic to Ethel Rosewater's office.

The two women in the outer office of the Rosewater and Atherton suite looked up and started to say something as Dean waltzed by to Ethel's closed-door chamber.

Ethel was standing by the window, handkerchief in hand, looking like an Indian mourner at her husband's pyre.

Ethel, less than attractive in the best of times, looked horrible.

Someone knocked on the door but Ethel just yelled, "Go away."

Ethel, you're just mad because you didn't dump me first.

He put his arm around Ethel and kissed her.

The old Ethel Rosewater was coming back and the second gin helped.

Dean dusted off a Christmas present bottle of VO with thoughts of re-igniting the glow from Ethel's gin and chasing away the gloom of the empty house but one sip and he re-capped the jug, deciding it wasn't a good idea.

The top one, marked urgent, was from Ethel Rosewater.

Ethel yelled into the phone, loud enough for Tom DeLeo to hear at the next desk.

They agreed Lenny Harrigan should handle the matter in view of Dean's relationship with Ethel.

Dean hurriedly left the office before Ethel showed.

Certainly his ties to Ethel helped, but Ethel herself knew little and Dean had never told her he was chasing down the possibility that Byrne was alive.

Friday was the second day in a row to begin with a phone call from Ethel Rosewater.

Jonathan continued, We called Atherton's partner, your friend Ethel Rosewater—ran her down at a house party in the Hamptons.

He felt an obligation to Ethel Rosewater but by the looks of the crowd his presence was unnecessary.

It had been nearly a month of empty Thursday nights since his no-show session with Ethel Rosewater and the beautiful Betty from Boise was offering an effective way to make sure that embarrassment was a temporary happening.

He had married in 1905 Miss Ethel Annikin, who became well known as a speaker and writer on social subjects.

In 1870 he married Ethel Berta, daughter of Mr William Harrison, by whom he had four sons.

Her best-known story, Mrs Keith's Crime (1885), was followed by several other volumes, the best of which is Aunt Anne (1893); and the literary talent in the family was inherited by her daughter Ethel (Mrs Fisher Dilke), a writer of some charming verse.

Ethel Reagan, the Boston columnist, must have been as happy as a visit from Publisher's Clearing House.

Ethel Reagan ended the article with speculation about more widespread use of this psychic ability, if in fact it existed.

Ethel Reagan has become a staunch advocate of allowing the wondrous Psychic Tipster sufficient freedom to perform her good works amid mountains, or woods, or plains of Idaho where she resides.

I told Ethel Reagan why I wanted to keep the news quiet; it might make a perpetrator feel safe to do his macabre mischief.

To kill further time, I telephoned Ethel Reagan.

We considered letting Ethel Reagan know, perhaps saying the tipster had died.

There was the customary group of tourists with names like Bud and Ethel and Elmer and Clara— names not assigned to anyone born after World War II.

Dean's involvement with Ethel Rosewater, like most of the elements in his present life, developed through little overt action on his part.

Ethel took one glance at Dean's occupation and knew she had hit neither a financial bonanza nor a stepping-stone to anything but fiscal mediocrity.

Rosewater and Atherton, Attorneys-at-Law, was a partnership of Ethel Rosewater and Arthur Atherton, a pompous bastard that Dean had busted for soliciting a plainclothesman outside a gay bar.

While the rest of Ethel's wardrobe was nothing short of spec­tacular, her underwear was a throwback to another era.

While she'd never admit to concern for his wishes, Ethel seemed to limit her smoking around Dean, but never abstinence from the mandatory one "after."

Vinnie began to rummage through the ashtray, finally picking out a butt left over from Ethel Rosewater.

Ethel, her usual sympathetic self, reached for her cigarettes and began to get dressed after what she deemed sufficient time to put up with the unsuccessful performance.

Ethel raged on for sever­al minutes, listing in graphic detail exactly what she'd do to her partner—now ex-partner—until Dean managed to get her to agree to sign a complaint so the police could begin a quiet search.

Dean couldn't think of more than 20 names—Ethel Rosewater, Cynthia Byrne, David Dean, even Jeffrey Byrne, not to mention half of Arthur's gay friends and lovers and most of his ex-clients.

Jonathan continued, We called Atherton's partner, your friend Ethel Rosewater—ran her down at a house party in the Hamptons.

A pat of sympathy on Ethel's shoulder was returned by a pat on his butt and he was out of there.

There is also an article, written much earlier, by Ethel Dobie which also appears on this website, describing mottled budgerigars.

The Ethel M Chocolate Factory & cactus garden in Henderson shows how chocolates are made; the cactus garden includes 350 species of cactus.

Ethel (Holding up shin guards) What are these?

In 1901 Beatty married American millionaire heiress Ethel Tree.

Mrs. Freeman and Carrie and Ethel and Frank and Helen came to station to meet us in a huge carriage.

Other popular styles include the geometrically-shaped Darla, Kerala, Ethel and Janet, with their sculptural detailing and supple leather.

Her mentor was Ethel Meglin, a woman who helped launch Shirley Temple's career.

From the spectacular Bellagio fountain to touring the Ethel M Chocolate candy factory, just outside of town, Las Vegas will keep you amused without unloading your wallet.

About ten miles outside of Las Vegas, in Henderson, the Ethel M Gourmet Chocolate Factory wows visitors with a tour of how they make their delicious confections.

Ethel M Chocolates is open every day from 830am to 7pm.

Judy Garland's real name was Frances Ethel Gumm.