Word: grew
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...late brother, the great Jon Bratiano. He it was who daringly altered the Royal succession and placed upon the Throne a baby King, Mihai I (TIME, Aug. 1, 1927). This stroke of statecraft was designed to maintain the power of the Tycoons unchallenged until the baby king grew up. To make doubly sure, Jon Bratiano set up a Regency of two old men and a youth, all denounced by the Parliamentary Opposition as puppets...
More than a rack of test-tubes ? a retort! Seething humanity smothered the Derby. Confetti and torn telephone books snowed. A placard and its prancing bearers proclaimed: "Remember November sixth ? beer!" The swarms of children grew prodigious. Cautioningly, anxiously now the Derby waved. One child run down would cost thousands of votes, perhaps millions. Yet swarming imps were every where, all yelling and grinning, a few tying to the Derby's car tin cans which other imps snatched off, pummeling the tin-cantiers...
During the Reece speech, however, the Nominee grew restive and eyed the hour. So effusively had he been greeted that it was growing late. A crowd was collecting at the outdoor speakers' stand. Radio time would soon be flying. As soon as Mr. Reece finished and before Mr. Taylor could begin, the Nominee stood up, thanked everyone and left the dining room. Almost everyone else left, too. Mr. Taylor remained in glowering loneliness with his fine speech undelivered in his hand...
...Cambridge, Mass., is surrounded by a dreary, dilapidated stadium; from factory chimneys near it long pennants of smoke twist in the wind and mark the low sky. Into the stadium last week there drifted a drooling drizzle and a cold, odorous draught. North Carolina, accustomed to warm blue afternoons, grew as stiff as a dying hare. Harvard backs called Gilligan and French fooled Carolina ends called Sapp and Presson so well that Harvard won 20-0. --Time...
...mouse-quiet grew the great room that all heard distinctly the click of the spring latch on Signor Mussolini's door as it was opened by his private secretary. Though the fellow smiled reassuringly, even obsequiously, many an editor had the feeling that he and his newspaper were being bowed into a trap if not onto a gallows. As they filed into the sanctum, each sheepishly saluted the lionesque Dictator, who stood at immobile salute behind his great carved desk...