Word: lined
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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Rumors current in Boston newspapers yesterday to the effect that E. L. Casey '19 would become University backfield coach next fall and that C. J. Hubbard Jr. '24 would be transferred from his position as coach of the tackles to that of line coach received no definite confirmation last night from W. J. Bingham '16, Director of Athletics. According to Mr. Bingham, the choice and appointment of the football coaching staff lies entirely with Coach Arnold Horween '21, and final substantiation of any report must await his arrival in Boston about the middle of next month...
Only a thin line of intention divides the two classes. The Crooked Bust is a criminal offense...
...gangsters in the office raised their hands. Their visitors marched them back into the garage, prodding their spines with gun muzzles. Tin coffee cups clattered to the stone floor. Snarled orders lined the six gangsters up along the north wall, their eyes close to the white-washed brick. The visitors booted the overalled mechanic into the line and "frisked" away hidden guns...
From the viewpoint of the reader, incidentally, the proposed legislation is of minor significance. The Boston dweller who must have his "Oil" will simply no longer be obliged to travel to Cambridge to get it. The languishing Boston bookshops will again take on their line of pristine Republican prosperity. And, for the Book of the Month Club, Lewis, Deeping, Sinclair and Dreiser may now be enrolled once more on the national eligibility list...
There is no place in whimsical comedy for such incubi as the three little cradles that are dragged on for the line "they're my hope cradles," of Miss Cowl. There is perhaps little more for soft epigrams like "Agenius? Someone who's always searching for something", which are five percent humor and ninety-five percent Jane Cowl. But there is something magical in the transformation of earned power that follows upon Harlequin's cool comfort of "That's life" to deserted Columbine. Miss Cowl turns her head suddenly up, and cries: "It's not; it's hundreds of little...