Word: longed
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...shoul d call Gibson a contemptible little bounder," drawled English Mrs. Litvinov not long afterward, and she had a great many things in mind. They bear importantly on the strained relations between Washington and Moscow, relations which creaked last week when Statesman Stimson politely reminded Russia and China in identic notes of their obligation under the Kellogg Pact not to fight, only to be told by Comrade Litvinov with blazing scorn to mind his business...
...Comrade Litvinov in the Kremlin came intelligence, last week, that a ship had just cleared from New York, bearing to the Chinese Government the second consignment of a $1,000,000 order for battle planes of the Vought Corsair type used by the U. S. Navy, built at Long Island City. Soon these planes might be bombing Soviet villages near the Sino-Russian frontier. Naturally the U. S. State Department was not responsible for the shipment, but it may have prejudiced Comrade Litvinov as he ruffled his copy of Statesman Stimson's note, pondered its powerful conclusion...
Every tournament brings up some new player. The one at Hillcrest was a giant Californian, Fred Morrison, who made 15 threes during the 36-hole qualifying round and won the medal with 136, four better than Diegel. Before long he disappeared into the traps that medalists so often discover in a match play. Harry Cooper, who had been given a starting time, was ruled out because he had not played in the elimination tournament in his district. Tommy Armour, one-eyed Scot, was sick at home. Al Espinosa put out Bill Melhorn in a match that went 40 holes, then...
...world's largest consumer of tin and lead. For this reason National Lead, like any wise concern, keeps an eye on its raw supplies. It owns some Patiño stock, keeps its own president and vice president on the Patiño board of directors, was long a partner with Patiño in owning Williams, Harvey & Co. of Liverpool, world's largest tin smelters...
...this costume romance. It has all been expertly tailored for John Barrymore's profile, for his bark, his meditative scowl, his glance of an amorous lion, his strides in high, patent-leather boots. On a white charger he leads his mercenaries into battle and pushes back with long, stiffened fingers the cloaks attached to various 18th Century uniforms. He is a soldier of fortune who earns his living fighting wars for popinjay princes and who takes a dislike to his current employer because of a remark the latter has passed about his (Crack's) mother. Best shot: Crack...