Word: swart
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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Next day the warm Madeira sun shone upon sweltering tourists, upon monkey venders feeding sugar cane to their wares, upon Portuguese loafers strolling about with a sow on a string, upon swart policemen impressively asleep- finally upon the Earl of Birkenhead who walked in a bathrobe, worn toga-fashion, beside a pool into which no one cast ?100. That evening the so dapper gentlemen were merry. What a joker His Lordship was, to be sure! Mr. Shaw was not half so clever. Haw! Pretended he would jump into the pool, haw! Who but His Lordship would even have thought...
...speck dropped into the leftfield bleachers and Ruth jogged around the bases pouting because he was all alone. Then Koenig fumbled, Meusel muffed, and the Cardinals scored thrice. In the sixth, New York squeaked in its second run and in the seventh filled the bases with two out. As swart Lazzeri dawdled to the plate, the Cardinals huddled around Pitcher Haines. In the stands an angry growl rose to pandemonium. Manager Hornsby came out of the huddle and shouted towards the distant "bull pen" (where pitchers practice). No one appeared. Fielder Hafey spun on his heel to carry the message...
...Swart, bullnecked, purposeful, Premier Mussolini followed his orchids, strode on board, shook the hand of Sir Austen warmly, kissed the hand of Dame Chamberlain. A steward bustled forward. Cocktails of Italian vermuth in each of which reposed an olive were lifted high...
...Scholars. Scholars from England, scholars from France, German scholars and scholars from Italy, on scholarships, international funds or private initiative, swelled the ranks of young America. Holy Cross (Worcester, Mass.) centred some of its attention upon a swart, stocky freshman whose name had a familiar ring and reminded them of something. He was Anton Lang Jr., son of the famed Christus of the Oberammergau Passion Play in Bavaria. Sacrilegious smart-alecks were not long in coining his nickname...
...Century's English correspondent, a regular contributor to the London Times. None knew better than he how busy the "international road," the press, is kept by the pagan deities in question. None knew better how Venus, having maddened or blessed some hot Italian poet, some Indian rajah or swart Turk, makes her swift progress from the harem or a Paris divorce court to U. S. breakfast tables. None knew better how religion might be jostled by Mammon, despatches from an ecumenical council vying for space with the details of a petroleum coup or soap king's testament. Mars...