Fifteen pretty girls brought their carefully catalogued charms and mountains of luggage to London last week and, in a polyglot babel of perfumed chatter, settled into a once-quiet, family-type hotel just off the Strand. One of them was destined to become Miss World of 1953.
To protect her figure, Miss Greece would eat nothing but oranges, spent a good part of the week sitting in her hotel room amid piles of peelings and half-eaten fruit. She sent down word that she had a cold, then every few minutes picked up the telephone to report to the switchboard, "I am very...
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