Her blond hair was frowzy, her dress torn in several places, and her shoes were so completely worn out that they were practically no protection.

Her hat had come off and fallen behind her shoulders, held by the string, and he could see her face more clearly than he had at any time before.

Her own body protested, aching painfully where the blood in her veins had congealed, where cold demon wisps still clung and caressed.

Her impact in the zing commercials had led to her being considered for an excellent part in an upcoming TV series, Underwater Western Eye, a documentary-type show to be sponsored by Oatnut Grits.

Her form was silhouetted and with the strong light I could see the outlines of her body, a body that an artist or anyone else would have admired.

Her heart, her maternal feeling, in fact her being was too busy expressing itself, as quietly thrilled by this sight of her Nicolas curled asleep under a blanket, in a park like a scene from Poussin.

Her white blond hair was clean and brushed long straight down to her shoulders.

Her face was pale but set and her dark eyes smoldered with blame for Ben.

Her long thin arms moved in a slow rhythmical gesture over the family possessions which were placed in front of her.

Her clothes, her hair, everything about her is both graceful and simple.

Her mother called her Paus'l, a Luxemburg endearment meaning `` pussycat ''.

Her parents, pious Roman Catholics, christened her Mary Anne Elizabeth Magdalene Steichen.

Her brother Karl was a very gentle soul, her mother was a quiet woman who said little but who had hard, probing eyes.

Her mother, now dead, was my good friend and when she came to tell us about her plans and to show off her ring I had a sobering wish to say something meaningful to her, something her mother would wish said.

Her quarters were on the right as you walked into the building, and her small front room was clogged with heavy furniture -- a big, round, oak dining table and chairs, a buffet, with a row of unclaimed letters inserted between the mirror and its frame.

Her mother wrote Kate of her grief at the death of Kate's baby and at Jonathan's decision to go with the South `` And, dear Kate '', she wrote, `` poor Dr. Breckenridge's son Robert is now organizing a militia company to go South, to his good father's sorrow.

Her house stood on a rise of ground, and before she got into her car she looked at the houses below.

Her face was very thin, and burned by the sun until much of the skin was dead and peeling, the new skin under it red and angry.

Her mouth, which had been so much in my thoughts, was warm and moist and tender.

Her thick hair was the color and texture of charcoal.

Her laugh was hard.

Her stern was down and a sharp list helped us to cut loose the lifeboat which dropped heavily into the water.

Her name was L'Turu and she told me many things.

( Her account was later confirmed by the Scobee-Frazier Expedition from the University of Manitoba in 1951.

Her mother was a good manager and established a millinery business in Milwaukee.

Her name was Esther Peter.

Her action was involuntary.

Her name was Mollie.

Her speech was barren of southernisms ; ;

Her hair was dyed, and her bloom was fading, and she must have been crowding forty, but she seemed to be one of those women who cling to the manners and graces of a pretty child of eight.

Her voice was ripe and full and her teeth flashed again in Sicilian brilliance before the warm curved lips met and her mouth settled in repose.

Her presence only made Letch more distant and irritable and, in the hurry of buying Chateau Belletch, I had neglected to consider a room for Baby-dear, so there was no place to put her, anyhow.

Her effort to put the home of living Presidents on the same basis as Mount Vernon and Monticello recognizes no party lines.

Her tail no longer lashed.

Her day starts early, but no matter how many pressing letters there are to be written ( and during May, which is National Salvation Army Week, there are plenty ), schedules to be made or problems to be solved, Mrs. Marr's office is always open and the welcome mat is out.

Her face showed no sign of having heard Pompeii.

Her hair was the color of those blooms which in seed catalogues are referred to as `` black '', but since no flower is actually without color contain always a hint of grape or purple or blue -- he wanted to draw the broad patina of hair through his fingers, searching it slowly for a trace of veining which might reveal its true shade beneath the darkness.

Her mother ’ s marriage to Agrippa was her second marriage, as Julia the Elder was widowed from her first marriage, to her paternal cousin Marcus Claudius Marcellus and they had no children.

Her father had no private income and the parsonage would revert to the church on his death.

Her husband left her no money, so she has tried different kinds of work, and now hopes to find some work that is not too strenuous.

Her mother was Soga no Iname's daughter, Soga no Kitashihime.

Her son Naka no Ōe planned a coup d ' état and slew Soga no Iruka at the court in front of her throne.

Her mother was Ochi-no-Iratsume, the daughter of Minister Ō-omi Soga no Yamada-no Ishikawa Maro.

Her mother decides, against Agnes ' will, to throw a 16th birthday party for her, and Agnes is afraid no one will come.

Her Shakespearean heroines-Beatrice, Portia, Desdemona and Ophelia – were no less successful than her comic characters – Miss Hoyden, Biddy Tipkin, Lucy Lockit and Miss Prue.

Governors-general ( and their spouses ) have the style " His / Her Excellency " during their tenure, but no style applies to former governors-general purely by virtue of their former office.

Her mother stayed with her day and night, allowing virtually no visitors.

Her retirement coincided with the ending of her party's federal parliamentary representation ; the Democrats ' support had collapsed after 2002 and they won no seats at the 2004 and 2007 half-senate elections.

In modern practice, when the Government party has an absolute majority in the House, only the express vote " that this House has no confidence in Her Majesty's Government " is treated as having this effect ; dissentients on a minor issue within the majority party are unlikely to force an election with the probable loss of their seats and salaries, and any future in the party.

Her continuing mission: to explore strange new worlds ; to seek out new life and new civilizations ; to boldly go where no human has gone before.

Her publisher accepted the award in her place, apparently with no knowledge of her withdrawal, and there was no mention of her objection.