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She longs for her husband and one night makes up her mind.
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She and longs
She becomes a symbol to Titus of all the freedom that he longs for.
She is the Beynons ' maid, but longs for a more exciting life.
She longs to be Shūichi's girlfriend ever since they went to junior high together.
She wants for a child not only because she longs for one but because during the time that she lives that all a woman could hope for.
She longs for a normal life.
She longs to fall from her pillar.
She still longs for him in secret, but maintains a rather distant front.
She longs to be " Somebody " and rushes off to perform.
She is still hunting the Minotaur that escaped in the last book ; she is tiring of fiction, however, and longs to return to her own world and get back her husband Landen, who was removed from time by the evil Goliath Corporation in 1947.
She longs for some adventure to drop out of the sky, and it does.
She longs to exact her revenge and refuses to mourn for the sins and death of Agamemnon or of the townspeople.
She is in a stable relationship with Hugo ( Richard E. Grant ), but longs for more out of life.
She admits that she loves him and longs to see him again.
She longs to see things grow of a season, whether gardens or children ; he looks for the high-return of mine work, despite the dangers ( which are not major factors in the book ) and the irregularity of the work.
She and for
She said, `` I guess the Lord looks out for fools, drunkards, and innocents ''.
She studied it for a long time.
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 could not scream, for even if a sound could take shape within her parched mouth, who would hear, who would listen??
She was glad, completely and unselfishly glad, to see that things were working out the right way for both Sally and Dan.
She was telling herself that this might just be her reward at the end of a long meaningful search for truth.
She set the dipper on the edge of the deck, leaving it for him to stretch after it while she looked on scornfully.
She said, with the solicitude of a middle-aged woman for her only child.
She wrote gay plays about the girls for family entertainments, like `` Oh, What Fun!!
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 was pious, too, once kneeling through the night from Holy Thursday to Good Friday, despite the protest of the nuns that this was too much for a young girl.
She knelt out of reverence for having read the Meditations of St. Augustine.
She left the next day for her teaching job at Princeton, Illinois.
She ended her letter with the assurance that she considered his friendship for her daughter and herself to be an honor, from which she could not part `` without still more pain ''.
She had her reasons for this.
She had been picked up by the Russians, questioned in connection with some pamphlets, sentenced to life imprisonment for espionage.
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 had done it last year, and the year before, and the year before that, and she, and her people were dependent upon these cans for food.
She should offer substitutes for the temptations which seem overwhelmingly desirable to the child.
She was the only kind of Negro Laura Andrus would want around: independent, unservile, probably charging double what ordinary maids did for housework -- and doubly efficient.
She was taken up in worry for the reckless old man.
She had taken him out of the schoolhouse and closed the school for the summer, after she saw Miss Snow crack Joel across the face with a ruler for letting a snake loose in the schoolroom.
She lay under the covers making jabbing motions with her forefinger telling me where to look for the coffeepot.
She wrote again and now, abandoning for the moment the theme of love, she asked for help in the matter of her career.
She and her
She lay there, making no effort to get back on her feet.
She drank greedily, and murmured, `` Thank you '', as he lowered her head.
She rubbed her eyes and stretched, then sat up, her hands going to her hair.
She stared at him, her eyes wide as she thought about what he had said ; ;
She got to her feet, staggered, and almost fell.
She sat down at the table, shaking her head.
She clung to him, talking to him, and dabbing at her eyes.
She was carrying a quirt, and she started to raise it, then let it fall again and dangle from her wrist.
She showed her surprise by tightening the reins and moving the gelding around so that she could get a better look at his face.
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 swung the quirt again, and this time he caught her wrist and pulled her out of the saddle.
She came down against him, and he tried to break her fall.
She wiped it off with the sleeve of her coat.
She brought up her free hand to hit him, but this time he was quicker.
She finally regained her balance and got up in the saddle.
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 remembered little of her previous journey there with Grace, and she could but hope that her dedication to her mission would enable her to accomplish it.
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