Word: frailing
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...colleagues; 2) Monsieur Aristide Briand (France), tousled and heavy eyed as a tomcat at dawn; 3) Dr. Gustav Stresemann (Germany), plump, bald, rubicund, and yet with a trig, indefinable air of smartness; 4)Signor Vittorio Scialoja (Italy), representing with compact, bustling decisiveness the great Duce; 5) Baron Adachi (Japan), frail, insignificant in stature, piping voiced, yet with a winning and decisive mien...
...Knock. There are those theatregoers who wince when they see, propped up on the stage, a cardboard automobile. To them, this frail vehicle is a symbol for many estimable qualities of stage technique-loud clowning, eccentric costuming, futuristic scenery, boisterous laughter from the actors on the stage-which they, in hypersensitive hauteur, sometimes distrust. As soon as the curtain rose on Jules Remain's "intellectual farce," in France already a minor classic, they knew what to expect. Had usually able Director Richard Boleslavsky made it seem less like a pillow fight, they would have been delighted with this bumptious...
...story about a courtesan written by Alphonse Daudet, for his sons "when they are twenty," supplied Jules Massenet with a frail clothes line upon which to peg his watery songs. Chiefly because Mary Garden ("Our Mary") must every season have a new role, this Sapho was presented last week in Boston, first stop on the Chicago Civic Opera Company's annual midwinter tour...
Italy has about 250,000 factories, of which less than 10% employ 10 or more persons each. Few good highways, little mineral resources and especially a paucity of coal mines hamper the factories. They must import almost all their raw materials. Expensive materials and frail employes explain why textiles constitute the chief manufactured products of Italy, why food products come next, why steel and engineering industries have progressed slowly. If Italy had at least cheap motive power for her factories, they could become larger, more numerous and more productive of diversified goods. And Italy has in her mountains great stores...
...small room in an English country house, famed Author Thomas Hardy lay sick in bed. Frail, 87, a little querulous in his talk, he still seemed unaccustomed to this invalid ease, the result of a chill he lad caught a month before. His hands, as thin and brown as claws, played nervously with the edge of his quilt. James Barrie came to talk to him; Hardy's peaked mournful face was turned sideways on its pillow, his voice seemed shrill and tired as he spoke to the writer who, with himself, shares the honor of being most respected...