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She has had a long-lasting impact on Australian literary life through her endowment of a major literary award known as the Miles Franklin Award.
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She and has
She has shared her husband's greatness, but only within the confines of their home ; ;
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 has small, broad, capable hands and an enormous energy.
She has studied and observed and she is convinced that her young man is going to be endlessly enchanting.
She has the small, highly developed body of a prime athlete, and holds in contempt the `` girls who just move sex ''.
She has a pretty bad cold ''.
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 has been acting as a prostitute.
She teamed up with another beauty, whose name has been lost to history, and commenced with some fiddling that would have made Nero envious.
She replied, `` I know of one man that has not been friendly with him.
`` She says she has to finish a story ''.
She gave a fine portrayal of Auntie Mame on Broadway in 1958 and has appeared in live television from `` Captain Brassbound's Conversion '' to `` Camille ''.
She has to have at least one car herself.
She is the most beautiful thing you ever laid eyes on, and her dancing has a feminine suavity, lightness, sparkle, and refinement which are simply incomparable.
) She has since turned to Bellini, whose opera `` Beatrice Di Tenda '' in a concert version with the American Opera Society introduced her to New York last season.
She has a good, firm delivery of songs and adds to the solid virtues of the evening.
She is just home from a sojourn in London where she has become the sweetheart of a young fellow named Ronnie ( we never do see him ) and has been subjected to a first course in thinking and appreciating, including a dose of good British socialism.
She also has a habit of constantly changing her hairstyle, and in every appearance by her much is made of the clothes and hats she wears.
She has a maid called Maria who prevents the public adoration from becoming too much of a burden on her employer, but does nothing to prevent her from becoming too much of a burden on others.
She has authored over fifty-six novels and she has a great dislike of people taking and modifying her story characters.
" She first met Poirot in the story Cards on the Table and has been bothering him ever since.
She also has a remarkable ability to latch onto a casual comment and connect it to the case at hand.
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.
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