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 remained squatting on her heels all the time we were there ; ;

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 can remove all knick-knacks within reach.

She soared over the new pastor like an avenging angel lest he stray from the path and not know all the truth and gossip of which she was chief repository.

She was personally sloppy, and when she had colds would blow her nose in the same handkerchief all day and keep it, soaking wet, dangling from her waist, and when she gardened she would eat dinner with dirt on her calves.

She enjoyed great parties when she would sit up talking and dancing and drinking all night, but it always seemed to her that being alone, especially alone in her house, was the realest part of life.

She had made curtains for all the windows of her little house, and she had kept it spotless and neat, shabby as it was, and cooked good meals for Bobby Joe.

She had done all the things she had promised herself she would do, but she had not thought of this.

She was going to tell Bobby Joe about how mistaken she had been, but he brought one of the cousins home for supper, and all they did was talk about antelope.

She was too young, that was all ; ;

She hopes that all will support the contestants from our own community by attending our Pageants and the State Pageant June 17 ; ;

She also banks into a turn like a fine runabout -- not digging in on the outside to throw passengers all over the boat like many a small cabin cruiser.

She found she could cope with all kinds of problems for which she was once considered too helpless.

She is well-educated and refined, all wildcat and fur, and Union from the muzzle to the crupper ''.

She drew on all her resources of mind and heart to help them -- to make them at home in the world ; ;

She was closely associated with the Founders in all their trials and hardships.

She was closing and within one more bound would have been able to reach the rear end of the bay, but -- and here Jones and Loveless and Ulyate were holding breath for all they were worth -- she never quite caught up that last bound.

She had it all planned out, how she'd do.

She didn't mind working hard, not as if she figured to do anything wrong to live easy and soft -- all she wanted was a chance, where she wasn't marked as what she was.

She tried to think of his unpredictable actions in the eleven years she had known him and discovered they weren't so many after all.

She glanced at the man nodding beside her, a man with weather cracks furrowed into his lean cheeks, with powdery pale eyes reflecting all the droughts he had seen, reflecting the sky and the drought which must follow now in August -- yes, with eyes predicting the drought and here it was only June, only festival time again and thoughts of Gratt Shafer would not leave her.

She showed no interest at all in the life he had led back home, and it hurt him a little.

She smiled all the way to her wise, sad eyes, and drained her own.