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 would return this symbol to the mountain, as one pours seed back into the soil every Spring or as ancient fertility cults demand annual human sacrifice.

She was a top horsewoman and one of the city's most gracious hostesses.

She could not resist the opportunity `` of showing her superiority in argument over a man '' which she had remarked as one of the `` feminine follies '' of Sara Sullam ; ;

She designed and supervised the building of the Harbert, Michigan, house, most of which was constructed by one local carpenter who carried the heavy beams singly upon his shoulder.

She entreated me to see a doctor, and when I refused, brought one out to see me.

She regretted what she described as the `` unwarrantable & unnecessary '' check to their friendship and said that she felt that they understood one another perfectly.

`` She didn't really say '' -- She glanced away at the floor, then swooped gracefully and picked up one of Scotty's slippers.

She had been one of the first to collect her wits.

She was a juicy one.

She concluded by asking him to name another hour should this one be inconvenient.

She fell asleep leaning on her hand, hearing the house creaking as though it were a living a private life of its own these two hundred years, hearing the birds rustling in their cages and the occasional whirring of wings as one of them landed on the table and walked across the newspaper to perch in the crook of her arm.

She was going to tell Bobby Joe about how mistaken she had been, but he brought one of the cousins home for supper, and all they did was talk about antelope.

She hesitated, she hopped, she rolled and rocked, skipped and jumped, but in some two weeks she started to pace, From that time to this she has shown steady improvement and now looks like one of the classiest things on the grounds.

She also builds one or two waxen cups which she fills with honey.

She then described her experience as one in which she first had difficulty accepting for herself a state of being in which she relinquished control.

She was the John Harvey, one of those Atlantic sea-horses that had sailed to Bari to bring beans, bombs, and bullets to the U.S. Fifteenth Air Force, to Field Marshal Montgomery's Eighth Army then racing up the calf of the boot of Italy in that early December of 1943.

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 replied, `` I know of one man that has not been friendly with him.

She was closing and within one more bound would have been able to reach the rear end of the bay, but -- and here Jones and Loveless and Ulyate were holding breath for all they were worth -- she never quite caught up that last bound.

She sidled along the booths one step at a time.

She had swished away, she had been gone for a long time probably when Sarah suddenly realized that she ought to stop her, pour out the coffee, so no one would drink it.

She had assumed before then that one day he would ask her to marry him.

She had a cup of something steaming, coffee perhaps, in one hand, a fresh piece of toast in the other.