Word: fated
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...protest which goes up as a result of the remarkable punishment meted out by the college to the offenders seems very well justified. Certainly not all those evicted could have been interested in the hidden cache, but the college has decided that all shall share a similar fate. Just at the time when the rugs have been laid on the floor and the furniture has begun to assume a natural air--then does the iron hand of the law drive the exiles out into the world to seek a new lodging. While the affair makes admirable copy for metropolitan newspapers...
...Thus the fate of the Milwaukee. Old lake sailors described how, when a car ferry is pitched by high-running combers, the freight cars break from their clamps. On the Milwaukee were 27 loaded cars. Back and forth they must have creaked and strained, bolted and battered, gaining momentum until they catapulted thunderously overboard, capsizing the careening, helpless ferry...
...process is unduly painful. To sit at the feet of wisdom and imbibe a true love of the English language necessitates inspiring instructors, and in English A1, the inspiring quality of the instructor is more than likely to be determined by the whims of the fickle Goddess of Fate. Given a poor instructor, any natural inclinations towards the study of English are likely to be smothered under the soporific influence of the teachings of the mediocre mind, as many who have received their first and last college instruction in English in this course will ruefully testify...
...Fate of the Baron is the tale of an aristocratic gentleman whose life's errand is to become the lover of a prima donna and whose ecstacy at her final acceptance is quickly changed to gentlemanly chagrin when she leaves him after their first night. Denouement: the Baron hears that his night of love was the result of a curse, muttered by the prima donna's previous lover on his deathbed. Upon hearing this the Baron can do nothing but die of shock, which he promptly does. Author Schnitzler's characters die easily, often...
Some 13 years ago a much-bundled lady lay in her deck-chair on an eastbound Atlantic liner and moaned the fate that had let her go to the U. S. and fail in a few miserably managed recitals. The lady, although it could not have been guessed by her thin, unshaped legs, was a dancer. The name she went by was La Argentina* and in Madrid she had long been a favorite. But the U. S.-bah! She closed her eyes and pretended to forget...