Word: debonaire
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...were indulging in an active tennis match. One of them bounded about at the net, volleying everything he could; the other played a backcourt game, driving deeply and accurately. His brow was furrowed with concentration; he was trying very hard to win. His rival at the net was more debonair; when a neat lob passed him, he kissed his fingers to it; occasionally he called out, "Bravo, René." He, Jean Borotra, was playing against René Lacoste, conquerer of J. O. Anderson, for the championship of England at Wimbledon (TIME, July 6). On the sidelines sat the King...
...sixth round, swing his right hand twice to Berlenbach's jaw, at which the latter sank to his knees, his cloudy face even cloudier. A bell had rung then, and Burly Berlenbach got to his corner and the smelling salts. But, after that, McTigue seemed very tired. His debonair red trunks were soggy and dark with sweat. Still he retreated, always faster than Berlenbach, ducking, rocking, pulling away. His right hand, broken long ago, was little use to him. At the end of the bout, it was the young German whose legs sagged, the old Irishman who seemed fresh...
...homebuilders, plumbers, left their homes, last week, journeyed to Manhattan, where they assembled, 5,000 strong, at two splendid functions?one a conference on town, city and regional planning, led by the American City Planning Institute, the other the annual exhibition of the American Institute of Architects. They pinned debonair ribbons, blazoned with the word "Guest," upon their lapels; stone men cemented up their differences, iron men welded their friendships, plumbers soldered sound opinions with a friendly pipe, draughtsmen were seen slipping away, arm in arm, for a draught. At meals they listened to famed speakers: Harvey W. Corbe President...
...with her husband's blood, sat at the edge of a prize-ring, screaming something. "Hit him in the slats, Bob," said she, addressing her husband, Pugilist Robert Fitzsimmons, "in the slats." In the 14th round, he took her advice, let his left try the middle of his debonair, dancing opponent; the referee's arm rose and fell: James J. Corbett ceased to be heavyweight champion...
...their luncheons. Outside Langdell Hall, a group loitered long, seemed, in fact to have taken up a permanent station there. More and more kept coming, some with ear-tabs (for it was cold) tall young men who waddled, short young men who strode; the worried, the weasel-faced, the debonair: men distinguished by their intelligence, by their apparel; lambs, lions, scoffers, leaders, bleaters, men who, in other clothing might have been artists. Seven hundred idle, able, rowdy, snobbish, gay, amused, determined, casual, dismal Harvard lads (as motley as only as assembly of U. S. students can be) stared...