Word: curlingly
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...proved once more her essential femininity. She has changed her dress again. She has apparently changed her mind about just what sort of a girl she wants to be this season. No longer the demure young lady (with her moments of audacity to be sure), she will cut and curl her hair, wear a tailored suit, and thumb the pages of The World Tomorrow. And she has betrayed her womanhood most completely by a delightful bit of guile--by dating it November instead of September she has brought out her first issue on time...
...across the low platform of the green 15 feet beyond the hole. Von Elm's ball went a foot further. He leaned over to putt and then looked up; the whirling of a camera had disturbed him. There was a reverent silence as he tapped his ball, watched it curl slowly toward the cup, and stop, unmiraculously this time, a yard beyond it. Burke, with three putts for a win, signalled to the cameras to take his picture. Obliging, he putted three times, won the U. S. Open after 144 holes, 589 strokes...
...thwacking it mightily into the toughest gale, watching it hover and dip and rise again, often to soar away like a homing bird into the trees to some unplayable nest. They are putting it diligently into the cup, diligently and boldly-boy, she's in!-oop-a curl and a flip and out pops Big Boy for another try. ... It was a disappointment in May; it will be hated in June; and by July it will be tyranny. You have literally commanded the players who worked and slaved for years to break 90, to work and slave quite...
...Hampshire early this morning and whistled through the windows of his private suite in Memorial Hall. After a night spent at a genuine Intercollegiate Ball the zestful zephyrs did the trick for the old reprobate and he awoke at dawn with roses in his cheeks and a curl in his blond hair. Ah, yes. Youth has come to town. Youth, strong and vigorous, is the style today. And best of all, the Vagabond is young again. And chipper, too, my lads...
...Carthaginian warrior, he keeps languidly remarking: "Oh nuts!" It was in the best interests of mirth to revive George S. Kaufman's skit in which two blase hotel guests discover that the house is on fire. Instead of leaving, they stay to entertain the firemen. As the flames curl outside the windows, one of the firemen telephones the office for the key to the next room. The other tunes a violin, giving the excuse: "Not enough time to practice at home." Libby Holman, that singing girl who improves so tremendously on Helen Morgan, has a full-throated Harlem sonata...