somerset frasi

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Frasi con somerset (in inglese)

Somerset fell in love.
Now, Somerset was a strong swimmer.
Ponsonby destroyed, Somerset remained.
Somerset stood on the gunwale and dived.
Somerset was the first to note the change.
Somerset looked at her askance, uncertain.
Somerset raised his hat as he took his seat.

Somerset felt an irresistible desire to kick him.
She couldn’t be, Somerset retorted, grimly.
As soon as he could collect his faculties, Somerset asked:.
Somerset glowered at him, and let his drink remain untasted.
But becoming a trooper would get him the hell out of Somerset County.
But Somerset had no intention of bidding her a final farewell in the morning.
If an additional bond between Somerset and herself were needed, it would have been this.
Somerset had first met the Princess Rabomirski and her daughter three years before, at Spa.
Kate recognised the voice of her older sister, Jenny, who would be calling from her home in Somerset.
Four hours afterward Somerset sat on deck by the side of Ottilie, who, warmly wrapped, lay on a long chair.
Proceeding along the Curve of the River, we came at length to the New Exchange, Somerset House, and the Inner Temple.
And Somerset found in this neglected little sham princess what his youth was pleased to designate a flower-like soul.
Instead, I went downstairs, brushed my teeth, and got in bed and read a great spy book by Somerset Maugham—Ashendon.
He felt very safe from Kunitz in the folds of the Somerset hills, and as the days passed calmly by he felt still safer.
Somerset in a letter I am privileged to quote, that I used to wake him on Sunday mornings to bathe in the dam above Byron's Pool.
Ottilie was then a child of seventeen, and Somerset was less attracted by her delicate beauty than by her extraordinary loneliness.
Iain owns a little house here in Blue Anchor, on the Somerset coast, and is willing to offer it for whatever use Errd can find for it.
Ottilie, attended only by her maid, came down to the water’s edge, threw off her peignoir, and, plunging into the water, found Somerset waiting.
The Duke of Somerset, otherwise known as Edmund Beaufort, had spent years as a prisoner of the French and was suspected of having French sympathies.
On the day when Somerset learned that his little princess was engaged to Bernheim he burned to tell her more than could be spluttered out in ten fathoms of water.
Travelling across the Somerset levels is a weird experience; in places, the wasteg is higher than the land and we find ourselves looking down on pretty withy pools full of birds.
PLUNGED THUS WITHOUT WARNING into the very Heart of London, I wander’d lost and lonely past Somerset House, into the Strand, and thence to Covent Garden—tho’ I scarce knew their Names then.
Somerset, who had made regular acquaintance with the princess at the hotel and who took a chivalrous pity on her loneliness, she admitted first to a timid friendship and then to a childlike intimacy.
Somerset, aware that Ottilie, now grown from a child into an exquisitely beautiful and marriageable young woman, was destined by a hardened sinner like the princess for a wealthier husband than a poor newspaper man with no particular prospects, could not, however, quite understand the reason for the virulent hatred of which he was the object.
Those Scotch Grays, those Horse Guards, those regiments of Maitland and of Mitchell, that infantry of Pack and Kempt, that cavalry of Ponsonby and Somerset, those Highlanders playing the pibroch under the shower of grape-shot, those battalions of Rylandt, those utterly raw recruits, who hardly knew how to handle a musket holding their own against Essling's and Rivoli's old troops,—that is what was grand.
Why, even the unhappy laugh, and the policeman, far from judging the drunk man, surveys him humorously, and the little boys scamper back again, and the clerk from Somerset House has nothing but tolerance for him, and the man who is reading half a page of Lothair at the bookstall muses charitably, with his eyes off the print, and the girl hesitates at the crossing and turns on him the bright yet vague glance of the young.
One would approach at first warily through the shrub oaks, running over the snow-crust by fits and starts like a leaf blown by the wind, now a few paces this way, with wonderful speed and waste of energy, making inconceivable haste with his "trotters," as if it were for a wager, and now as many paces that way, but never getting on more than half a rod at a time; and then suddenly pausing with a ludicrous expression and a gratuitous somerset, as if all the eyes in the universe were eyed on him—for all the motions of a squirrel, even in the most solitary recesses of the forest, imply spectators as much as those of a dancing girl—wasting more time in delay and circumspection than would have sufficed to walk the whole distance—I never saw one walk—and then suddenly, before you could say Jack Robinson, he would be in the top of a young pitch pine, winding up his clock and chiding all imaginary spectators, soliloquizing and talking to all the universe at the same time—for no reason that I could ever detect, or he himself was aware of, I suspect.
However, in the library of Taunton, Somerset,.

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