“ […] The Twelfth Kentucky infantry has had all the chances in the world to follow the path of glory. I’d like a change. Fiddles instead of drums and girls, very pretty girls, Ewing, in drawingrooms. The drawingrooms are important.” […] I give you my word she would like nothing better than to see you dead in one of the drawingrooms you are so particular about. […] It bothers me to see you sitting on the portico, or in the drawingroom, day after day. […] John remembered, now, seeing a small framed daguerreotype of Wickliffe Sash in the drawingroom at Calydon—a dark boy with hair carefully brushed away from a thin intent face.
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1931, Joseph Hergesheimer, The Limestone Tree, New York, N.Y.: Alfred A. Knopf, pages 269 and 282, 311, and 368:
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On the ground floor of Mr Biswas’s two-storey house the solicitor’s clerk had put a tiny kitchen in one corner; the remaining L-shaped space, unbroken, served as drawingroom and diningroom. […] He was deputed to have disputations with the pundits in the drawingroom. […] Mr Biswas heard him walk along the resounding boards of the unfinished drawingroom floor and step on to the staircase—that was a firmer sound. Then there was a silence, and he heard Anand coming back across the drawingroom. […] The drawingroom furnishings of Hanuman House had been similarly scattered. There could be no division of this house into the used and the unused, and the thronelike chairs, the statuary and the vases were left in the drawingroom, […] They occupied the drawingroom, the diningroom, a bedroom, the kitchen, the bathroom; […]
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1961, V[idiadhar] S[urajprasad] Naipaul, A House for Mr Biswas[1], Andre Deutsch, pages 9, 170, 257, 362, and 391:
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After dinner, they were in the habit of taking their demi-tasses into the drawingroom where green logs, smouldering thinly in the grate, gave ample reason for those damp patches on walls and ceiling, […] Maria-Clara went to the Steinway in the drawingroom and sang for them all while Věra accompanied her. […] she can’t see the open drawingroom door, nor the white faces of Ján and Ilona staring at her as she leaves her room for the last time […] Never had Hope End looked more beautiful, with the silver bowls in the drawingroom full of June roses and the porcelain bowl in the hall full of giant delphiniums.
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1987, Sheila MacLeod Smith, The Transplanted, Lewes, Sussex: The Book Guild Ltd, →ISBN, pages 3–4, 65, 85–86, and 107–108: