Слово "wear". Англо-русский словарь Мюллера

Suppose, for instance, Stradlater was wearing a tie or something that you liked.

He was dressed in a blue suit a good deal the worse for wear.

of a wearable system that perhaps you could wear like a piece of jewelry

'A cat is not supposed to wear trousers, Messire,' the cat replied with great dignity. 'You're not going to tell me to wear boots, too, are you?

"They are quite worn out. Marmee must have a new pair."

As the first moment of shock was wearing off and people began to react to the news, the Sorting Hat spoke again:

little black-and-white worn snapshots

We assembled in his carriage, at the summons of an orderly, and found him and the adjutant wearing their steel helmets and equipment.

She was wearing the same sweater and blue jeans she had been wearing all day, and Langdon suddenly felt a fiery, upwelling sense of betrayal.

Then he caused the two brothers to be hanged on the gallows, and to the third he gave his youngest daughter, and on that occasion I wore a pair of glass shoes, and I struck them against a stone, and they said, "Klink," and were broken.

I wear a crew cut quite frequently and I never have to comb it much.

He wore nothing more than the loincloth and the earth-coloured, unsown cloak.

I've worn lots of shoes.

Then she got better at last, all worn to a shadow, and with her beautiful hair cut off; but that didn’t make no change in her young man, and he stuck to her as true as man could be.”

His romantic olive-coloured face and worn expression interested him. There was something in his low, languid voice that was absolutely fascinating.

“Had there been women in the house, I should have suspected a mere vulgar intrigue. That, however, was out of the question. The man’s business was a small one, and there was nothing in his house which could account for such elaborate preparations, and such an expenditure as they were at. It must, then, be something out of the house. What could it be? I thought of the assistant’s fondness for photography, and his trick of vanishing into the cellar. The cellar! There was the end of this tangled clue. Then I made inquiries as to this mysterious assistant and found that I had to deal with one of the coolest and most daring criminals in London. He was doing something in the cellar—something which took many hours a day for months on end. What could it be, once more? I could think of nothing save that he was running a tunnel to some other building. “So far I had got when we went to visit the scene of action. I surprised you by beating upon the pavement with my stick. I was ascertaining whether the cellar stretched out in front or behind. It was not in front. Then I rang the bell, and, as I hoped, the assistant answered it. We have had some skirmishes, but we had never set eyes upon each other before. I hardly looked at his face. His knees were what I wished to see. You must yourself have remarked how worn, wrinkled, and stained they were. They spoke of those hours of burrowing. The only remaining point was what they were burrowing for. I walked round the corner, saw the City and Suburban Bank abutted on our friend’s premises, and felt that I had solved my problem. When you drove home after the concert I called upon Scotland Yard and upon the chairman of the bank directors, with the result that you have seen.”

Soon after the departure of the carts with their escorting detachment, the procurator's guest also left the palace grounds on horseback, having changed into a dark, worn chiton.

There were several very large and heavy coins, so worn that we could make nothing of their inscriptions.

We laid her head for the nearest port in Spanish America, for we could not risk the voyage home without fresh hands; and as it was, what with baffling winds and a couple of fresh gales, we were all worn out before we reached it.

People were still nice to her then, but when she came back sick and worn out, there was no compassion for her in anyone!

By six o’clock Michaelis was worn out, and grateful for the sound of a car stopping outside.

The morning wore away.

“So that you weren’t alarmed when the morning wore on and no summons came?”

Had Riukhin not become so worn out in the clinic and on the truck, he would certainly have derived pleasure from telling how everything had gone in the hospital and embellishing the story with invented details.

One of them, which was named Foxwood, was a large, neglected, old-fashioned farm, much overgrown by woodland, with all its pastures worn out and its hedges in a disgraceful condition.

The sting of the catapult bullet had worn off.

But after a while, this wears off.