Morgan hesitated, thinking that if this was a trick, it was a good one.

He was silent a moment, thinking he could use a man this time of year, and if the girl could cook, it would give him more time in the meadows, but he knew nothing about the couple.

They might kill him in his sleep, thinking there was money in the house.

He was thinking of Rittenhouse and how he had left him there, to rock to death on the porch of the Splendide.

Joe Purvis was thinking back many years.

he was long past the point of coherent thinking.

I was thinking about that.

Keith Sterling had looked down on the Brahmaputra more times than he could remember, during the war days when he flew over the Hump of the world, thinking it high adventure in those times before man was guiding himself through outer space.

He was thinking, big deal: skipper on his drunken fishing parties for seven years and no better off than when I started.

Jack walked off alone out the road in the searing midday sun, past Robert Allen's three-room, tarpapered house, toward the field where the other boys were playing ball, thinking of what he would do in order to make Miss Langford have him stay in after school -- because this was the day he had decided when he thought he saw the look in her eyes.

The first systematic thinking about this Pandora's box within Pandora's boxes was done four years ago by Fred Ikle, a frail, meek-mannered Swiss-born sociologist.

The portrait that had developed, fragmentarily but consistently, was the portrait of a man to whom serious thinking is alien enough that the making of a decision inhibits, when it does not forestall, any ability to review the decision in the light of new evidence.

Years were to pass before these plans came off the paper, and Wright was justified in thinking, as the projects failed, that much of what he had to show his country and the world would never be seen except by visitors to Taliesin.

As always, the ranks worked out new and better tactics, but there was brilliance in the way the field commands adopted these methods and in the way the army commanders incorporated them into their military thinking.

The fossilized, formalized, precedent-based thinking of the legendary military brain was not evident in Sherman's armies.

He was thinking his way into a new novel, a big one, one that people had been waiting for.

He was thinking chiefly of Cap.

He was happy enough to take the convertible and race up the hill to the Blevins', thinking that they might give him a drink.

I knew better but I was thinking of the Pedersen kid mother-naked in all that dough.

He was awful angry because he'd thought Ma was going to do something big, something heroic even, especially for her I know him I know him we felt the same sometimes while Ma wasn't thinking about that at all, not anything like that.

Bobby Joe was thinking about something else.

In working out the practical legal conclusions President Waters was not thinking only of this pilot project, for it is planned to duplicate this program or system in other builder developments nationally.

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.

Then he was on his way at a gallop.

In his mood, it was the best way to handle him ; ;

This, he was sure, was the way they would act ; ;

`` Fred was mighty crude about the way he took in cattle '' his own hired man, Andy Ross, mentioned later.

The mere fact that the tall figure with the rifle and field glasses had been seen riding that way was enough to frighten three rustling homesteaders out of the Upper Laramie country in a single week.

The hands and their bosses saw him as a lone knight of the range, waging a dedicated crusade against a lawless new society that was threatening a beloved way of life.

From the way the wound in his head was itching, Dan knew that it would heal.

She was glad, completely and unselfishly glad, to see that things were working out the right way for both Sally and Dan.

Even the knowledge that she was losing another boy, as a mother always does when a marriage is made, did not prevent her from having the first carefree, dreamless sleep that she had known since they dropped down the canyon and into Bear Valley, way, way back there when they were crossing those other mountains.

All the doors were open at this hour except one, and it was toward this that Stevens made his way with Russ close at his shoulder.

Leading his pony, he hurried that way, not remounting till he was well below the level of the surrounding range.

There was, of course, no way for the other planes to get by them.

The way his red rubber lips were stretched across his pearly little teeth I thought he was only having a little joke, but, no, he wanted me to bend down from the roar of wind so he could roar something into my ear.

There was something about the contour of her face, her smile that was like New Orleans sunshine, the way she held her head, the way she walked -- there was scarcely anything she did which did not fascinate me.

It was nearly sundown and he went to the back of the wagon, half-swimming his way, for he was not a tall man.

They were dirty, their clothes were torn, and the girl was so exhausted that she fell when she was still twenty feet from the front door.

She was amazingly light, and so relaxed in his arms that he wasn't even sure she was conscious.

`` I'm a mess '', she said, and suddenly she was alarmed.

He treats her like she was dirt.

She was carrying a quirt, and she started to raise it, then let it fall again and dangle from her wrist.

He got up slowly, and she was already on her feet, and he stood facing her.

He had forgotten that she was so pretty.

When they reached their neighbor's house, Pamela said a few polite words to Grace and kissed Melissa lightly on the forehead, the impulse prompted by a stray thought -- of the type to which she was frequently subject these days -- that they might never see one another again.

It was there that she would have to enact her renunciation, beg forgiveness.

But she was caught in it, and she faced the terrible possibility that, if it were a dream, it was one from which she might never awaken.

Facing the forest now, she who had not dared to enter it before, walked between two trees at random and headed in what she believed was the direction of the pool.

Was it not possible, after all, that the forest was in league with her and her child that its sympathy lay with the Culvers that she had erred in failing to understand this??