Word: restless
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...chair. After a bank robbery and a narrow escape, she persuades her young pal (Richard Arlen) to give up the gun game, marry her, take her away to a little home in California. There she is as loving a wife as any man could wish. But her husband grows restless; he cannot be happy for long unless he has a gun in his hand. He goes back into the racket; and she, loyal but violently protesting, goes with him. And finally . . . no, that would be telling too much. Ladies of the Mob is excellent entertainment, if you refrain from getting...
...child. Orders have gone out to the lesser Tigers (Ahearns, Sullivans, Hoeys, Flynns, Bradys, McCues, Ryans): no rough stuff, no noise, no liquor parties. Backslapping, in which Olvany does not indulge, actively or passively, is frowned upon. New York's Jimmie Walker, on the wagon, grins at the restless Tigers and quotes the price of corn whiskey.* Boss Olvany lifts his long eyelashes, advises calisthenics, cold showers...
Professor W. E. Hocking '01, has written "The Self; its Body and Freedom", and Professor G. H. Edgell '09 has contributed another work on Fine Arts with his "The American Architecture of Today". The questions of the Pacific have stirred Nicholas Roosevelt '14 to write "The Restless Pacific" and W. Cameron Forbes '92. "The Philippine Islands...
Gaunt from wretched diet, toothless from scurvy, the cynical oldsters were right that escape was not so certain. Six weary years dragged themselves out: lumberjacking or road-building under armed guards, restless hours in prison, philosophising, swearing, gambling for "mômes," the girlish boys who were possessed by carnal strongmen. With luck bits of wood could be stolen and carved into salable boxes, or penny errands might be run for the slave-drivers, and bit by tarnished bit the price of attempt at freedom could be bought. Five hundred francs would bribe a bushman to paddle one convict across...
...Ambassador to Mexico, remitted its busy comings and goings in Mexico City last week and quietly lay, bolstered among fat white pillows, in bed. Ambassador Morrow had a fever; nothing serious, just a touch of grippe. Affairs of state awaited his mending. But there was no pause in the restless activity of Mr. Morrow's mind, which, accustomed to strenuous exercise, cried out for diversion at least. When his physician refused him permission to work, Mr. Morrow said: "All right, then, I will enjoy myself as I always do when I have to stay...