Word: trodding
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...clean-limbed naiveté-of a first novelist. His dialogue is always clear and quick, and occasionally it reaches down to pluck some nerve of real human sensibility. Apart from the poem he gave one of the Confederate prisoners to speak ("Faith was ... a jungle/ Where two children trod/ Looking for violets/ Angleworms and God"), the bravos for Bravo should go largely...
Working in Silence. On the big day of the show - the 20th anniversary of the Falange's founding-el Caudillo togged himself in the traditional black coat and snug red beret, and trod into the jam-packed stadium. The crowd exploded in a rhythmic roar: FRAN Co FRAN Co FRAN Co FRAN Co! From a lofty dais, Franco hailed the party: "There is no substitute for the Falange! Only by the continued impetus of the Falange can we guarantee the future of Spain." He candidly explained why the Falangists had been kept under wraps since...
Polo in the Streets. At 17, Bobbety was a trainbearer at George V's coronation; thence, he trod a well-worn road: Eton, Oxford (where he and the Prince of Serbia were fined for playing bicycle-polo in the streets), and the Grenadier Guards. Wounded in France, Viscount Cranborne, as Salisbury was known while his father was alive, got a medical discharge and married Betty Cavendish, niece of the Duke of Devonshire...
...Aldershot, and privately educated in France by a governess with Republican views. At 16, she was head of her father's household in Dublin, where he was Assistant Adjutant General. She was presented in 1881 at the viceregal court, and she "danced with the Duke of Clarence, who trod excruciatingly on my satin-slippered toes." Visiting a great Irish country house a few months later, she saw Irish peasants being evicted, and their stone & thatch cottages being demolished by battering rams. "These people must be taught a lesson," said her host. "That damned Land League is ruining the country...
...three meet agan in Sicily, where King Richard pauses for a while; and Robert, John and Guy pass a languishing time in the bower of the Lady Melisande des Préaux, of Richard's court: "We trod on velvet there, on turf that some miracle of watering had kept soft and green as a nunnery lawn, past tall late lillies and dark cypress trees, down tiled paths between beds of yellow and red roses, at last to a colonnade of white fluted columns, the earth between set thick with violet leaves...