Word: chains
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There was a figure like an English country gentleman-Mr. George H. Doran. There was a firm-jawed, genial Virginian-John Macrae, president of E. P. Button & Co. There was a well-preserved gentleman of some 67 summers, upon whose watch-chain hung a small gold ivy leaf-Arthur Hawley Scribner, who with his older brother Charles has carried on the business begun by their father in 1846. The swarthy gentleman whose dress, manner and accent bespoke the complete cultured cosmopolite was Alfred A. Knopf, master of the coursing Borzoi hound; the handsome lady with him -Mrs. Knopf...
...short survey over post-war history makes us aware of the alarming fact that there have been wars of more or less importance in one part of the world or another ever since the Armistice. Inquiring into the causes of wars in general, Mr. Bakeless asserts that a complex chain of economic forces makes war almost inevitable in the modern world. "The general increase in population," he writes, "in almost every portion of the globe compels all nations to expand and thus inevitably brings them into collision with one another. Increase of population forces nations to seek colonies overseas...
...twelve stand open, to all appearances guarded with no extraordinary rigor. Not so the twelfth. Religiously the watchdogs of the college swing shut at stroke of six the iron portals that front the Holden Chapel between Lionel and Mower Halls, and make them fast for the night with monolithic chain and padlock...
...coast of Liberia, Africa. There he found a man who had lived almost two years beyond the scriptural three score and ten, a bristly-bearded old man in horn-rimmed spectacles on board a quiet yacht. Death took him, took Edward Wyllis Scripps, founder of the Scripps-Howard chain of newspapers, whose address during his failing last years had been, "On Board S. S. Ohio, abroad on the waters of the world...
Round and round and round. The hours merged into nights, the nights into days, until all nights and days were one, an endless circle coiling round and round, until past, present, future, became only a) chain-driven wheel rotating under the arena roof. Who could tell tomorrow from yesterday? Not the pedaling juggernauts. For all they knew, Time had reversed its gears and left them to pump on and on into the past. Douglas Fairbanks offered $200 for a sprint; Mary Pickford's starry gaze followed a little wearily the incessant circlers. A bronzed well-dressed little man kept...