She was the widow of a writer who had died in an airplane crash, and Mickie had found her a job as head of the historical section of the Treasury.

She thought again of her children, those two who had died young, before the later science which might have saved them could attach even a label to their separate malignancies.

She was still in the play for pay business when she died, a top trollop who had given the world's oldest profession one of its rare flashes of glamour.

She had quarreled with Lucien, she had resisted his demands for money -- and if she died, by the provisions of her marriage contract, Lucien would inherit legally not only the immediate sum of gold under the floorboards in the office, but later, when the war was over, her father's entire estate.

She died on August 25, most likely of typhoid fever.

She died around 1603 and is buried in the O ' Malley family tomb on Clare Island.

She had intended Newton to become a clergyman, but she died of tuberculosis when he was six years old.

She answered her accusers that she received tuition from Thomas Reid, a former barony officer who had died at the Battle of Pinkie some 30 years before and also from the Queen of the Elfhame which lay nearby.

She died broken-hearted in July of the next year, at the castle of Poissy, and was buried in the Convent of St Corentin, near Nantes.

She died in 1274, after they had three children.

She was married in 515 to Eutharic ( c. 480 – 522 ), an Ostrogoth noble of the old Amal line, who had previously been living in Visigothic Hispania, son of Widerich ( born c. 450 ), grandson of Berismund ( born c. 410 ), and great-grandson of Thorismund ( died after 400 ), King of the Ostrogoths c. 400.

She had two sons ( Roberto and an unnamed one ), but both died young.

She fought Achilles and died after he seriously wounded her.

She died in 2006 at the age of 96.

She died within a short time of the marriage ceremony and created the opportunity for Dom Pedro to escape with his true love and live in the city of Coimbra.

She told everyone that the money came from her father, who died at about the same time.

Following some success illustrating cards and booklets, Potter wrote and illustrated The Tale of Peter Rabbit publishing it first privately in 1901, and a year later as a small, three-colour illustrated book with Frederick Warne & Co. She became unofficially engaged to her editor Norman Warne in 1905 despite the disapproval of her parents, but he died suddenly a month later, of leukemia.

She died on 22 December 1943 at her home in Near Sawrey at age 77, leaving almost all her property to the National Trust.

She herself died in 1558, and in 1559 Elizabeth I reintroduced the 1552 book with a few modifications to make it acceptable to more traditionally minded worshippers, notably the inclusion of the words of administration from the 1549 Communion Service alongside those of 1552.

She died two years later.

She died in the September 11 attacks.

She died c. 352 / 3.

She died in 360.

She had three children, a daughter ( who went to live at the Dominican Abbey in Poissy in 1397 as a companion to the king's daughter, Marie ), a son Jean, and another child who died in childhood.

She was born on 5 July 1996 and she lived until the age of six, at which point she died from a progressive lung disease.

She also found telomerase active at the site of blockages in coronary artery tissue.

She appears not to have recorded after 1935, and spent some time managing her son's jazz group, Bogan's Birmingham Busters, before moving to Los Angeles shortly before her death from coronary sclerosis in 1948.

She was suffering from both heart disease and cancer and was kept in the coronary care unit for two weeks.

She died on March 17, 1946 of a coronary thrombosis in Washington D. C.

The winner was Ziegfeld showgirl Gladys Glad, and on July 11, 1929, the two were wed. She divorced him in 1932, but after a year the two remarried on the same date as their original wedding, and they remained wed until his death from a coronary thrombosis in Cedars of Lebanon Hospital in Los Angeles.

She moved back to Los Angeles where she died from cerebrovascular thrombosis.

She died from cerebrovascular thrombosis in Woodland Hills, California at the age of 86.

She was not used to the medical jargon her character had to say, and claimed that it once took 12 takes to correctly pronounce " renal vein thrombosis.

She died in 1999, aged 60, as a result of cancer and thrombosis following an injury.

She helped him with the dishes, then he brought more water in from the spring before it got dark.

She wiped it off with the sleeve of her coat.

She remembered little of her previous journey there with Grace, and she could but hope that her dedication to her mission would enable her to accomplish it.

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.

She was standing with her back to the glass door.

She raised a protesting hand with a startled air.

She had touched her face, truly a noble and pure face, only with a lip salve which made her lips glisten but no redder than usual.

She cackled with mirth, showing the stumps of betel-stained teeth.

She had driven up with her husband in a convertible with Eastern license plates, although the two drivers knew nothing at the moment about that.

She would look at Jack, with that hidden something in her eyes, and Jack would see the Woman and become breathless and a little sick.

She said, with the solicitude of a middle-aged woman for her only child.

She munched little ginger cakes called mulatto's belly and kept her green, somewhat hypnotic eyes fixed on a light-colored male who was prancing wildly with a 5-foot king snake wrapped around his bronze neck.

She said with intense feeling: `` Come near, let me feel your arms.

She daubed at her swimming eyes with a lacy handkerchief and said with obvious emotion: `` That poor boy!!

She, too, is concerned with `` the becoming, the process of realization '', but she does not think in terms of subtle variations of spatial or temporal patterns.

She has rarely been photographed with him and, except for Carl's seventy-fifth anniversary celebration in Chicago in 1953, she has not attended the dozens of banquets, functions, public appearances, and dinners honoring him -- all of this upon her insistence.

She opened the boxes with a tear in her eye and a sad smile on her face.

She ended her letter with the assurance that she considered his friendship for her daughter and herself to be an honor, from which she could not part `` without still more pain ''.

She was Ellen Aldridge, a widow of good repute who was employed by Gorton's wife and lived with the family.

She had to clean the glass on the display cases in the butcher shop, help her brother scrub the cutting tables with wire brushes, mop the floors, put down new sawdust on the floors and help check the outgoing orders.

She had been picked up by the Russians, questioned in connection with some pamphlets, sentenced to life imprisonment for espionage.

She gave me the names of some people who would surely help pay for the flowers and might even march up to the monument with me.

She had, with her own work-weary hands, put seeds in the ground, watched them sprout, bud, blossom, and get ready to bear.