Word: brows
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
Descending into the lobby of the hotel at which the "interview" was given, Mussolini's brow darkened as he found the boycotting journalists quietly staring at him, without making the slightest move to question him about anything. Folding his arms imposingly, the Dictator marched up to George Slocombe, fiery-bearded Paris correspondent of The Daily Herald, noted mouthpiece of British Labor, and demanded: "Well, how's Communism?" Mr. Slocombe cut the Premier dead. Abashed, Mussolini murmured: "Then I have made a mistake?" turned irresolutely on his heel. A sparrowlike little Dutch correspondent chirped loudly: "You often do!" Flouted...
Murmurs of wrath came out of the West. Like a swarm of bees, droning a chorus of anger, they floated across the continent and then they settled, settled around the head of the Secretary of the Interior, on the brow of Hubert Work...
...flourishes that mar his more fervid performances. Even as actors of genuine talent sometimes paw the air and mouth their lines, so Tilden permitted himself an occasional half-stagger; he took off his shoes and played in his stocking feet; he poured buckets of ice-water over his bleak brow. However crude his technique in indicating to the gallery that he was a beaten man, it had its undeniable effect. Women murmured sympathetically. Men gnawed their lips. Lacoste determined...
...1896?the beginning of his political ascendency. He went to speak for the farmers of the West who believed their troubles were caused by a shortage of currency. He went to the Convention demanding the free and unlimited coinage of silver, crying: "You shall not press down upon the brow of labor this crown of thorns. You shall !not crucify mankind upon a cross of gold...
...brow of one M. Raphael Duflos clouded. On the porch of his country house was a trunk. He approached gingerly, opened it. Ah! then he was just in time, for the trunk was filled with his valuables. After tapping his hip pocket to gauge his courage, M. Duflos let himself into the house. Placed conspicuously on a table was a letter addressed to his wife, Mme. Hugette Duflos, once a Comédie Francaise beauty about whom half Paris raved and about whom the other half would have raved had it not been raving about other beauties. M. Duflos, visibly...