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was and only
It was the only thing in his life for which he felt guilt.
His looting of the orderly room had taken only a minute or two and the vicinity was still clear of guerrillas.
It was pitiful to see the thin ranks of warriors, old and young, wheeling and twisting their ponies frantically from side to side only to be tumbled bleeding from their saddles by the relentless slam, slam of the cruelly efficient Hawkinses.
The fire had gone down, and the man was only a shadow against the trees.
There was only one place where Jake Carwood's description had gone badly awry: the peace and quiet.
It was the only thing about her that was the least bit hard to remember.
under the circumstances I was only too willing to confess all.
only the counter at one end was lighted by a long fluorescent tube suspended directly above it.
On a shelf in the office behind the counter was a small radio dialed permanently on a station which broadcast only vulgar commercials and cheap popular music.
Once, pressing him, I learned that his job was only part-time, in the afternoons when nothing went on in the hall.
Though only a relatively short walk separated it from my own part of town, its character was wholly foreign to me.
The river was only a few blocks away but an unbroken line of piers prevented me from seeing it.
Although it was dark as usual I could see that the hall had only recently contained a great many people.
This desire, I went on, growing voluble as my conviction was aroused, had mounted at such a rate recently that I now found its realization necessary not only to my physical but also to my spiritual wellbeing.
The only reason we brought you was to get Miller out.
The only thing which would have attracted attention was that two wore the uniform of prison guards, three the striped suits of convicts.
He had belonged to this land and, perhaps, had desecrated it -- and this was the only material symbol that remained of him.
There was only one place where the mountain might receive her -- that unnamed, unnameable pool harbored in its secret bosom.
Now, he could only play the last card in what was probably the world's coldest deck.
He was only vaguely aware of the sluicing rain.
He paused only long enough to ascertain that Jess's buckskin was still missing and that his own gray was all right, then climbed through a back window and dropped to the ground outside.
There was no lock on the door, only an iron hook which he unfastened.
Again he stood in the darkness listening, but there was only the scrape of a shod hoof on a plank floor.

was and with
Gavin's stallion was in the barn and he tightened the cinches over the saddle blanket, working by touch in the darkness, comforting the animal with easy words.
Cabot turned back to the men and he was drunk with the thing they would do, wild to break from the cloying warmth of the saloon into the cold of the ebbing night.
Gavin's face was bloodless with excitement.
Still, I was disgusted with myself for agreeing with Montero's methods.
His mouth was open, his neck corded with the strain of his screams.
Out in front of our walls the grass was covered with dead and dying men, war shields, lances, blankets and wounded and dead horses.
The morning air was filled with the sweetish odor of new-spilled blood, the acrid stench of frightened horses, and the bitterness of burned powder.
Above me a dark rider was whipping his pony with a quirt in an attempt to hurdle the bales.
He was shaking with anger, his breath coming in long, painful gasps.
The town was about what Wilson expected: one main street with its rows of false-fronted buildings, a water tower, a few warehouses, a single hotel ; ;
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.
He was a man in his late forties, with graying hair, of medium height ; ;
It was partially cemented by ages and pressure, yet it crumpled before the onslaught of the powerful streams, the force of a thousand fire hoses, and with the gold it held washed down through the long sluices.
The man was tall, thin, with a narrow face and a too-large nose.
The ground was covered with soft pine needles and the slope was gentle.
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??
She regarded them as signs that she was nearing the glen she sought, and she was glad to at last be doing something positive in her unenunciated, undefined struggle with the mountain and its darkling inhabitants.
Having persisted too long in deliberate ignorance and denial of the forces that threatened her, Pamela was relieved now to admit their potency and to be taking definite steps toward grappling with them.
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 was handsome, with his coal-black hair and eyes, his fine-chiseled features.

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