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Page "Margery Kempe" ¶ 3
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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 chained
She is represented as a young woman chained to a throne shaped as a bull's head and has wind-related abilities.
She is chained outside the cave where the clan live, with Mama tormenting her.
She takes the weapon form of double blades that Rowen wields on each hand and six chained sickles on his back which can detach and attack opponents from a distance.
She felt chained down, and came to view herself as part of an oppressed class-single women missionaries.
She finds the Addershag in the cellar of a building, chained to a wall by men who want her to help them win games of chance.

She and storeroom
She refused to co-operate further with the scheme, but as the plan got underway, Margo secretly went and set a much larger fire in a storeroom.
She was a British library agent whose mission was to retrieve the " Key " to activate the Sleeping Books, hidden an ancient storeroom under a hot spring mountain built by her family.
She claimed that she had seen Nielsen's body in the storeroom below the club, with Trigg and two other men standing over her.

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 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.

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