She stood quite still, trying to focus upon a direction in which to turn, a path to follow, a clue to guide her.

She stood up, pulled the coat from her shoulders and started to slide it off, then let out a high-pitched scream and I let out a low-pitched, wobbling sound like a muffler blowing out.

She had stood at the bottom of the stairs, as usual, when Mrs. Coolidge came down, in the same dress that is now in the Smithsonian, to greet her guests.

She came to the ballroom and stood on the two carpeted steps that led down to it.

She stood there, a large old woman, smiling at the things she would say to him in the morning, this big foolish baby of a son.

She had begun to turn back toward the house, but his look caught her and she stood still, waiting there for what his expression indicated would be a serious word of farewell.

She stood up, smoothing her hair down, straightening her clothes, feeling a thankfulness for the enveloping darkness outside, and, above everything else, for the absence of the need to answer, to respond, to be aware even of Stowey coming in or going out, and yet, now that she was beginning to cook, she glimpsed a future without him, a future alone like this, and the pain made her head writhe, and in a moment she found it hard to wait for Lucretia to come with her guests.

She stood still over the leg of lamb, rubbing herbs into it, quite suddenly conscious of a nausea in her stomach and a feeling of wrath, a sensation of violence that started her shivering.

She measured the distance from where they stood to the men and the gun, measured the distance from the men to the back room.

She stood for a moment, rain dripping from the trees over her head, thinking of Maude.

She stood frowning and chewing her lip.

She smoothed the skirt, sat down, then stood up and went back to the windows.

She stood there, watching Holden come in, and she put the piece of toast in her mouth and bit off one corner with a huge chomp of her white teeth.

She stood sipping and chewing and watching.

She stood indecisively for a moment, then walked down the hall ; ;

She stood, once more listening.

She stood gazing at him.

She bettered this mark in 1990 with a speed of-a record which stood until 1993.

She, like her sister, fled to Jordan and has stood up for her father's rights.

She had a busy official role from 1932 to 1939 and, following her husband's death, stood for Parliament herself, becoming Australia's first female Member of the House of Representatives, and later first woman in Cabinet, joining the Menzies Cabinet in 1951.

She later explained her belief that her hair – which " had never been combed and ... stood out like a bushel basket " – might have saved her life.

" The Earl stood by his wife, asking his colleagues to intercede for her ; there was no hope: " She Queen doth take every occasion by my marriage to withdraw any good from me ", Leicester wrote still after seven years of marriage.

She found that T. horridus and several other species belonged together, and T. prorsus and T. brevicornus stood alone, and since there were many more specimens in the first group, she suggested that this meant the two groups were two species.

She stood as godmother for Matilda of Scotland, who would become Queen of England after marrying Matilda's son Henry I.

She trudged along slowly, both hands clutching a tired teddy bear.

She empties a can of gasoline into the apple cellar, and, clutching an oil lantern, dives into the cellar, starting a cataclysmic fire.

She comes to the room where Babe went and finds the landlady, clutching her uncle's clown costume.

She awoke to find herself clutching the statue, which radiated an eerie purple glow.

She was clutching a schoolbook, and had apparently become lost while trying to avoid the Southern soldiers camping near her home the night before.

She collapses with her son still clutching her back.

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.