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Page "humor" ¶ 46
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She and was
She was amazingly light, and so relaxed in his arms that he wasn't even sure she was conscious.
She was carrying a quirt, and she started to raise it, then let it fall again and dangle from her wrist.
She glanced around the clearing, taking in the wagon and the load of supplies and trappings scattered over the ground, the two kids, the whiteface bull that was chewing its cud just within the far reaches of the firelight.
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 was quick.
She brought up her free hand to hit him, but this time he was quicker.
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 sure she would reach the pool by climbing, and she clung to that belief despite the increasing number of obstacles.
She was bewildered.
She was standing in a thick grove.
She already knew this unwholesome, chilling atmosphere that was somehow grotesquely alive.
She was glad, completely and unselfishly glad, to see that things were working out the right way for both Sally and Dan.
She was still hugging the stained coat around her, so I said, `` Relax, let me take your things.
She was wearing nothing beneath the coat.
She was standing with her back to the glass door.
She was just not able to break the spell.
She was telling herself that this might just be her reward at the end of a long meaningful search for truth.
Meredith was irritated when the Grafin knocked at his door and told him, `` She is a great beauty!!
She confessed she was unhappy, he asked was it her husband??
She began to explain, `` There was this poet, in Italy '' He interrupted, `` Please don't judge all poets ''.
She was like charcoal, he thought -- dark, opaque, explosive.

She and who
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 could not scream, for even if a sound could take shape within her parched mouth, who would hear, who would listen??
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 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 was Ellen Aldridge, a widow of good repute who was employed by Gorton's wife and lived with the family.
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 has the small, highly developed body of a prime athlete, and holds in contempt the `` girls who just move sex ''.
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 was told by the manservant who opened the door that his lordship was engaged on work from which he had left strict orders he was not to be disturbed.
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 is owned by Ralph H. Kroening, Milwaukee, Wis., who, according to the railbirds, can feel justly proud of her.
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 later divorced Graham, who is believed to have moved to Bolivia.
She did suddenly, through the link of memory with his father, old Titus, who must have been in his nineties when Henrietta ran away.
She was taller than most Japanese girls, and had the exquisitely willowy form of the Japanese girl who is lucky enough to be tall.
She had good friends here, people who liked her.
She giggled during the ceremony, and Mousie Chandler, who was one of Linda's bridesmaids, said John glared black as death at her.
She had used his rumpled shorts as the very image of his childishness, his lack of control, his general male looseness, while she remained cool, airy, and untouched, the charming teacher who disciplined an unruly body.
She fell in love with Apollo who disguised himself as Leucothea's mother to gain entrance to her chambers.
She is a serene woman who, after taking care of the housework, sits quietly in a chair.
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.
Angela Lansbury, who had played Miss Marple in the movie, The Mirror Crack'd, directed by Guy Hamilton, went on to star in the TV series Murder, She Wrote as Jessica Fletcher, a mystery novelist who also solves crimes.

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