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Page "Blanche of Castile" ¶ 8
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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 him
She helped him with the dishes, then he brought more water in from the spring before it got dark.
She clung to him, talking to him, and dabbing at her eyes.
She came down against him, and he tried to break her fall.
She brought up her free hand to hit him, but this time he was quicker.
She began it deliberately, so that none of her words would be lost on him.
She yanked away from him furiously.
She studied him hopefully, yearningly ; ;
She looked at him, lips compressed.
Meredith was irritated when the Grafin knocked at his door and told him, `` She is a great beauty!!
She set the dipper on the edge of the deck, leaving it for him to stretch after it while she looked on scornfully.
She snapped at him.
She grabbed at Feathertop's sleeve and shrieked, `` Help him!!
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 couldn't cook or clean or make him comfortable.
She tells him of the consequences of his behavior.
She would hover over him and, looking like her brother, anxiously watch the progress of Scotty's fork or spoon.
She did not touch him.
She turned to him again.
She envied him.

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