Word: piled
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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White Court, Summer White House, lies on a six and a half acre "estate," with 400 feet of frontage on the bay. It is a great colonial pile, about 20 years old, built by the late Frederick E. Smith of Dayton, and now owned by his children. It numbers 28 rooms, including eleven master bedrooms, a huge reception room, a dining room, sun-parlor, music room and six servants' bedrooms. Across the entire rear of the house, facing the bay, are porches. A lawn slopes down to the water. The view includes Egg Rock, recently converted by the Massachusetts legislature...
...McKay, swashbuckling prospector who picks his teeth and his sweethearts with a Colt 44. The tiny mustachioed orphan of the storm beams innocently over the shoulder of McKay's own dearest. . . . Old stuff about an endearing note which Chaplin receives by mistake. . . . Out to make his pile so that he can wed the Klondike Kitty Kelly . . . . More prospectors*. . . . The big strike; the search for the girl; the scene on board the ocean liner in which the stunted erstwhile prospector, now in purple and fine sable, lounges on the first cabin, his heart aswoon for a vanished barmaid . . . while down...
...high anthropoid. The offspring was nerveless, bloodless, sexless, deathless, supra-intelligent and psychic. Unforturfately, it was also sadistic and clawed out a number of people's carotid arteries, among them that of the scientist. Also unforunately, a very biological biologist and a very bemonocled amateur detective pile the book with slovenly heaps of "scientific" jargon, consisting chiefly of proper names that Writer Snaith looked up in some book or read in the newspapers. One is repeatedly told that the badinage is entirely "point-device." Writer Snaith patches his wretched English with motley tatters of French. But the thrill...
Refiners start to store gasoline in November and continue to pile up stocks : until June 1. Last winter, however, the increase of gasoline stocks was 225,000,000 gallons less than for 1923-24, while consumption is now running 35% higher than at this time last year...
...polo player at the ringside whispered to his lady: "He looks like Lazarus." Young Tunney again advanced his right fist. Gibbons twisted his torso with a curious jerk, sat down, bewildered, like a man overtaken by exhaustion. The referee counted ten. After the fight, Tunney glanced through a pile of congratulatory telegrams, went off to Long Island for a week-end of golfing and light revelry; Gibbons packed his suitcases, boarded a broiling train for Chicago where his wife lies ill of nervous prostration. "Now I want Dempsey!" declared Tunney in the press. Undoubtedly, if Champion William Harrison Dempsey returns...