Word: swaggeringly
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Sand Hog & Cowboy. Harris was a bullying bantam of a man (barely 5 ft. 5 in. without his 2-in. elevator heels) who had great gifts, a natural swagger, and a voice variously compared to a Russian choir, the organ at Westminster Abbey and the rustling leaves of a brass artichoke. Born to enchant and embarrass, bewitch and betray, seduce and swindle a whole Who's Who of famous friends. Harris was never forgotten by those who met him-and rarely forgiven...
Lagaillarde, who has lived in Algeria since he was a year old, retains all the flamboyant swagger of his native Gascony. Graduating in law from Algiers University, Lagaillarde was conscripted, became a paratrooper and soon earned a second lieutenant's commission. As an interrogator of Moslems suspected of anti-French activities, he had the reputation of getting results, through torture if necessary...
...file are northerners and mostly from that cradle of warriors, the Punjab. The Indian army officer sometimes appears to be the very, very model of the British tradition: he has probably attended Sandhurst, speaks with an Oxford accent, plays polo and cricket, wears a mustache and carries a swagger stick. The first-rate Indian air force uses British twin-jet Canberra bombers and French Mystere jet fighters -all obtained by purchase, since Nehru believes that military aid would compromise India's traditional neutrality...
...Marine Colonel Robert Debs Heinl Jr. impatiently waved his heavy swagger stick one day last week as Haitian troops dashed across a drill field in Port-au-Prince and hit the dirt in platoon combat formation. "That looked like hell," grumped Heinl, "but when we can't find any mistakes, the time will have come for us to leave." In the sprawling headquarters of the International Cooperation Administration in downtown Port-au-Prince, ICA Director for Latin America Rollin Atwood wound up a rigid, five-day inspection and said: "From a year ago, Haiti has made tremendous progress...
...towards the end of Act II is excellent. Standing in the middle of a large brass bed, she cries out her soul like an hysterical child, desperately pleading for magic magic, not realism. She can give you the virgin-like innocence of a child one minute and the drunken swagger of a two-bit slut the next. There is a fine Blanche latent here! There are some strang inflections and an unusual clipped speech that often give her voice an ingenuous quality, and seem wholly at odds with a New Orleans drawl; but it is to Miss Humphrey's credit...