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He was sure, for he had done as he was told, hadn't he??
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was and sure
She was amazingly light, and so relaxed in his arms that he wasn't even sure she was conscious.
Next to him was a young boy I was sure had sat near me at one of the trading sessions.
Was I sure, he asked, that I knew what I was applying for??
She was sure she would reach the pool by climbing, and she clung to that belief despite the increasing number of obstacles.
This, he was sure, was the way they would act ; ;
But I'm sure the other one was Lou ''.
Ramey heard the words again inside, weakened, the way moving water sounds through a grove of trees, until he was not sure whether it was sound or light-headedness pressing in his ears.
No one seemed to know for sure what had happened, nor was there any purpose or responsibility in the muttering feet and urgent voices behind the driver, beyond finding out.
`` I was expecting it, sure.
He had suspected this guy was trouble, and now he was sure of it.
Bang-Jensen said you told correspondents that you had checked in advance to make sure the term ' aberrant conduct ' was not libelous.
By now she was sure she was going to have a baby, deciding it would be born in India or Burma that November.
When he heard that Paul Whiteman was looking for singers to replace the Rhythm Boys, Mercer applied and got the job, `` not for my voice, I'm sure, but because I could write songs and material generally ''.
A special guard was posted at my end of the bridge to make sure I didn't cross, the ludicrousness of the situation being revealed fully in that everyone else -- men, women, and children, dogs, cats, horses, cars, trucks, baby carriages -- could cross Kehl bridge into Kehl without surveillance.
Lincoln was sure that he would not be re-elected.
It was the oldest and toughest question young lovers have ever asked: How can you be sure??
The three would never meet again, but for some reason or other Mr. Podger was sure he would always remember the incident.
I am sure that they did when Eisenhower was President.
He was not sure what kind of a man he had in hand.
was and for
The best antidote for the bitterness and disappointment that poisoned him was hard work.
He didn't think it was possible for this couple to be pretending.
It must have hurt her even to walk, for the sole was completely off her left foot and Morgan saw that it was bruised and bleeding.
It was the only thing in his life for which he felt guilt.
He knew who was riding after him -- the men he had known all his life, the men who had worked for him, sworn their loyalty to him.
Still, I was disgusted with myself for agreeing with Montero's methods.
He was naked except for a clout.
Now under me I could see him for what he really was, a boy dressed up in streaks of paint.
Well, the grass was there, though in some places the ground was too steep for a cow to get to it.
But it was not easy for him and he often slipped.
Now, here was something of obvious importance to me, yet when I reached for the tickets he snatched them away from my hand.
It was, I felt, possible that they were men who, having received no tickets for that day, had remained in the hall, to sleep perhaps, in the corners farthest removed from the counter with its overhead light.
I was constantly searching for clues around the neighborhood of the hall.
No one was behind it, but in the rear wall of the office I noticed, for the first time, a door which had been left partially open.
At one and the same time, she was within it but still searching for the drawbridge that would give her entry.
That was the day that he had practically mopped up the main street of Big Sands with Aaron McBride, field boss for the Highlands Oil & Gas Company.
It was payday for Highlands, and he was packing a lot of money back into the oil fields.
I was just doing my job, just following orders, and for that he's going to kill me.
Somehow more terrible than the certainty that he was about to die was the knowledge that Lord would probably not suffer for it: the murder would go unpunished.
He was readying a batch of sourdough biscuits for the Dutch oven.
was and had
Any lingering suspicion that this was a trick Al Budd had thought up was dispelled.
Both had blonde hair and blue eyes, and there was even a faint similarity of features.
There was more to this than Jones had told him.
He was thinking of Rittenhouse and how he had left him there, to rock to death on the porch of the Splendide.
The silence oppressed him, made him bend low over the horse's neck as if to hide from a wind that had begun to blow far away and was twisting slowly through the darkness in its slow search.
It was the night Clayton had tricked them in the poker game.
The land over which he sped was the land he had created and lived in: his valley.
The Gap looming before him -- the place where had confronted Jack English on that day so many years ago -- was his exit from all that had meaning to him.
He was thinking that the way she had responded to his own kiss hadn't meant what he had believed it had.
He might tell her how sorry a spectacle she was making of herself, pretending to be blind to the way Julia Fortune had taken Dean's affections from her.
His looting of the orderly room had taken only a minute or two and the vicinity was still clear of guerrillas.
At the same moment Wheeler Fiske fired the rifle Mike had given him and another guerrilla was hit.
The bullet had torn through the flesh just above the knee, inflicting an ugly gash that was forming a pool of blood on the floor.
In the brief moment I had to talk to them before I took my post on the ring of defenses, I indicated I was sickened by the methods men employed to live and trade on the river.
The war captain had been badly wounded and was fighting to hold his seat.
She said, and her tone had softened until it was almost friendly.
She had picked up the quirt and was twirling it around her wrist and smiling at him.
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