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Page "belles_lettres" ¶ 692
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was and much
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.
The water was there, so much of it that it spread all through the dead orchard.
Yes, there was plenty of water, too much, and that was probably the trouble.
So simple, in fact, that it might even work -- although Pamela, now, in her new frame of mind, was careful not to pretend too much assurance.
He hated them too much to understand -- the people of this isolated law-unto-itself world that was Lord's world.
Such ranchers as Coble and Clay and the Bosler brothers carried him on their books as a cowhand even while he was receiving a much larger salary from parties unknown.
Curt was too involved in his own problems to pay much attention.
True, she was my Aunt, married to an Uncle related to me only by marriage, but why she had married a man twice her age, and more, perhaps, I did not know or much care.
Her mouth, which had been so much in my thoughts, was warm and moist and tender.
His advice, his voice saying his poems, the fact that he had not so much as touched her -- on the contrary, he had put his head back and she had stroked his hair -- this was all new.
Yet he did drop his badinage with the ordinary country girl as much in deference to the Grafin as acknowledgement that here, indeed, was something special.
He speaks your language too, for he is the grandson of a chieftain on Taui who made much magic and was strong and cunning.
There was a measure of protection in its concrete walls and ceiling, but the engineers who hastily installed it were well aware that concrete is not much better than prayer, if as efficacious, when a direct hit comes along.
Keith was on his feet because he didn't care at all about life any more: Penny on her feet, proudly, because she cared too much.
Now he was going to show how much he knew.
Thus, to cite but one example, the Pax Britannica of the nineteenth century, whether with the British navy ruling the seas or with the City of London ruling world finance, was strictly national in motivation, however much other nations ( e.g., the United States ) may have incidentally benefited.
We get some clue from a few remembrances of childhood and from the circumstance that we are probably not much more afraid of people now than man ever was.
The fear of disease was formerly very much the kind of fear I have tried to describe.
It was a brilliant debut, so much so indeed that it aroused a new vitality in the younger poets, as did Byron's Childe Harold.
Years ago this was true, but with the replacement of wires or runners by radio and radar ( and perhaps television ), these restrictions have disappeared and now again too much is heard.
That is to say Gabriel's fundamental law had been so much modified by this time that it was neither fundamental nor law any more.
During the decade that followed, the common man, as that piece put it, grew uncomfortable as the Voice of God and fled from behind Saint Woodrow ( Wilson ) only to learn from Science, to his shocked relief that after all there was no God he had to speak for and that he was just an animal anyhow -- that there was a chemical formula for him, and that too much couldn't be expected of him.

was and more
When they were closer and he saw that one was a woman, he was more puzzled than ever.
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.
There was more to this than Jones had told him.
I decided to see no more of the clerk until the processing of my papers was completed.
Unconcerned, indifferent, unmotivated, the forest was simply there -- fighting man's depredations with more abundant growth and man's follies with its own musical evening laughter.
He could move very quickly, she knew ( although he seldom found occasion to do so ), but he was more wiry than truly strong.
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.
It was to be nothing more than that.
No man's name brought more cheers when it was announced in a rodeo.
But he was more than half-drunk, and his faculties were dulled.
Over the rapidly-diminishing outline of a jump seat piled high with luggage Herry's black brushcut was just discernible, near, or enviably near that spot where -- hidden -- more delicately-textured, most beautifully tinted hair must still be streaming back in cool, oh cool wind sweetly perfumed with sagebrush and yucca flowers and engine fumes.
Johnson unwired the right hand door, whose window was, like the left one, merely loosely-taped fragments of glass, and Johnson wadded himself into a narrow seat made still more narrow by three cases of beer.
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.
This one was actually more of a `` near miss ''.
Because he couldn't hear them, he was more convinced they were there.
He was the lawman who survived more gunfights than any other famous gun-slinging character in the book.
His bold eyes raked the woman, and a perceptive spectator might sense that there was more to their relationship than that of slave to owner.
He bounced exuberantly on the sagging bed and was even more delighted when Madame Lalaurie -- after closing the door -- showed the slave that the bed was designed for something other than slumber.
The girl was not more than 16.
In every war of the United States since the Civil War the South was more belligerent than the rest of the country.

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