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She then had another substantial part when she appeared again with her husband in the screen version of Agatha Christie's play Witness for the Prosecution ( 1957 ) for which both received Academy Award nominations-she for the second time as Best Supporting Actress, and Laughton, also for the second time, for Best Actor.
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She and then
She rubbed her eyes and stretched, then sat up, her hands going to her hair.
She helped him with the dishes, then he brought more water in from the spring before it got dark.
She was carrying a quirt, and she started to raise it, then let it fall again and dangle from her wrist.
She saw it then, the distant derrick of the wildcat -- a test well in unexplored country.
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 didn't really say '' -- She glanced away at the floor, then swooped gracefully and picked up one of Scotty's slippers.
She just about made me carry her upstairs and then she clung to me and wouldn't let me go.
She had surprised Hans like she had surprised me when she said she'd go, and then she surprised him again when she came back so quick like she must have, because when I came in with the snow she was there with a bottle with three white feathers on its label and Hans was holding it angrily by the throat.
She went into the living room and turned on three lamps, then back into the kitchen where she turned on the ceiling light and the switch that lit the floods on the barn, illuminating the driveway.
She then went over them thoroughly giving each a strenuous test in showmanship.
She was then trained on the trot until December 29, hitched to a breaking cart once around the half-mile track and hoppled again.
She patronized Greenwich Village artists for awhile, then put some money into a Broadway show which was successful ( terrible, but successful ).
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 retreated by leaving the room when we suggested that our meeting might well terminate right then and there.
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 Mary Lou Brew then, wide-eyed, but not naive.
She worked as a domestic, first in Newport for a year, and then in South Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, for another year.
She had assumed before then that one day he would ask her to marry him.
She was thirty-one years old then.
She walked restlessly across the room, then back to the windows.
She smoothed the skirt, sat down, then stood up and went back to the windows.
She made a face at him and then she laughed.
She threw back a cushion over one of the seats, unlocked a padlock on the chest beneath it, then presently straightened, holding a long knife and a wicked looking spear gun in her hand.
She took postgraduate work at the University of Grenoble in France and then returned to London to work on market research with an advertising firm.
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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