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She had asked him several times, she said, why he had chosen to credit his own teachings to another, and he had always answered that doctrines put into the mouth of the miracle-working Shimon bar Yochai would be a rich source of profit.
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She and had
She had reached a point at which she didn't even care how she looked.
She stared at him, her eyes wide as she thought about what he had said ; ;
She had helped him change his mind.
She said, and her tone had softened until it was almost friendly.
She had picked up the quirt and was twirling it around her wrist and smiling at him.
She had offered to walk, but Pamela knew she would not feel comfortable about her child until she had personally confided her to the care of the little pink woman who chose to be called `` Auntie ''.
She seemed to have come such a long distance -- too far for her destination which had wilfully been swallowed up in the greedy gloom of the trees.
She had the feeling that, under the mouldering leaves, there would be the bodies of dead animals, quietly decaying and giving their soil back to the mountain.
She had to get away from here before this demoniac possession swallowed up the liquid of her eyes and sank into the fibers of her brain, depriving her of reason and sight.
She had been snared here by a vile sensuality that writhed around her throat in ever-tightening circles.
She had to escape.
She had to move in some direction -- any direction that would take her away from this evil place.
She wondered what had taken place in town, between him and his wife.
She had spent too many hours looking ahead, hoping and longing to catch even a glimpse of Dan and finding nothing but emptiness.
She had arrived this morning and come straight to the English Gardens.
She had retreated to this world.
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 had hated the whole idea before they started.
She had jumped away from his shy touch like a cat confronted by a sidewinder.
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 might have been someone he had once loved.
She began to watch a blonde-haired man, also in shorts, standing right at the rear of the wrecked car in the one spot that most of the crowd had detoured slightly.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed again, back in the same position where the snake had found her.
She had the opportunity that few clever women can resist, of showing her superiority in argument over a man.
She and asked
She confessed she was unhappy, he asked was it her husband??
She asked smolderingly.
She asked.
She asked if I had other advice and, heady with success, I rushed it in, I hope not too late.
She asked, taking him and Juanita into the parlor where the shutters were closed against the afternoon sun.
She asked him, seeing Juanita's eyes grow bleak.
She wrote again and now, abandoning for the moment the theme of love, she asked for help in the matter of her career.
She asked Bobby Joe that night.
She had asked.
She asked.
She asked with a reportorial gleam in her eye.
She went downstairs and received another curious shock, for when Glendora flapped into the dining room in her homemade moccasins, Sarah asked her when she had brought coffee to her room and Glendora said she hadn't.
She asked steadily.
She telephoned the junior partner of her law firm, Martin Stacy, and asked him to call at her hotel that evening.
She asked, winking wildly.
She asked.
She asked, turning slowly.
She asked, turning suddenly.
She asked suddenly.
She asked him.
She asked, in a way that seemed oddly sophisticated, considerate, and yet perhaps partly scornful.
She asked him.
She asked Bobbie.
She asked gently.
She asked.
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