Word: softe
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...himself on the lawn of the Little Pelesh. To this small chateau, some 50 miles from Bucharest, he had been brought last week, following his investiture, and barely 18 hours after the death of his grandfather, King Ferdinand I. Even as His Majesty rolled over lazily on the soft turf and gazed idly down upon the wooded valley of Pelesh, statesmen were busy in Bucharest drafting his first proclamation...
...theatrical headquarters, only two new shows opened last week. Both were "black-&-tan" affairs. The better, Africana, has to its credit swift changes, amazing doggers, several funny skits and Ethel Waters. Her 70-odd inches are topped by a small closely cropped head. She uses a typical husky, soft voice to unusual advantage, employs mannerisms frankly and disarmingly Negroid, understands the art of "living" her songs, so that they take on dramatic quality. In Harlem, she is queen. In Manhattan she stopped the show. The other feature is the chorus of many-tinted Negro girls, most of them well-made...
...most picturesque of the four. Reared in that fin-de-siècle British atmosphere that supplied Margot, Viscountess Oxford & Asquith with long, pendent earrings, Oscar O'Flahertie Wills Wilde with a sunflower boutonnière and Winston S. Churchill with a paunch, Montagu Collet Norman affects a soft felt hat, bow necktie and a superbly pugnacious goatee. Like his contemporaneous compatriots his wit is keen, his thinking sharp, his knowledge authoritative. Born in 1871, he has been Governor of the Bank of England since...
Roberta Star Semple is tall; has a soft voice and a clear laugh. She does not know men. Aimee Semple McPherson has been careful to keep men out of her daughter's ken. The girl, however, does know people. On the platform of the Chicago Coliseum, which Mrs. McPherson hired at $1,000 a day to tell about her notorious kidnaping of a year ago (TIME, June 7, 1926 ), the daughter last week followed her mother. She held her audience's attention, put them in a mood of sanctity, but she took no money from them. Mrs. McPherson...
...impossible that she should be aware as she lay there, so small, soft and yielding that she was indulging her most powerful instinct, the instinct of possession, the longing, the passionate need to possess that she had inherited from generations of fiercely grasping Gartons, men who had torn possessions from the grudging hand of life. . . . Her adoration of Hugh was rooted in the knowledge that he was hers, as nothing had ever been, as her son could...