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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 much
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 was now enjoying the voyage very much.
She was wise enough to realize a man could be good company even if he did weigh too much and didn't own the mint.
She was a child too much a part of her environment, too eager to grow and learn and experience.
She read Maitland's Dark Ages, `` which I enjoyed very much '' ; ;
She was standing on a flat rock three feet above ground and when she saw him she rose to full height and roared, opening her mouth wide, lashing her tail, and stamping at the rock with both forefeet in irritation, as much as to say: `` How dare you disturb me in my sacred precinct ''??
She whirled and faced him, roaring terribly, and Ulyate, watching through the leaves, could not understand why she did not charge and obliterate him, because he wouldn't have much of a chance of getting away, in that thick growth, but she seemed just a trace uncertain ; ;
She wished to change much for the children here ''.
She found this immensely comforting, even though Mercer did not make much sense out of it.
She says that at her age there is nothing much left to fear.
She claims to have been a member of the Russian aristocracy before the Russian Revolution and suffered greatly as a result, but how much of that story is true is an open question.
She also has a habit of constantly changing her hairstyle, and in every appearance by her much is made of the clothes and hats she wears.
She has a maid called Maria who prevents the public adoration from becoming too much of a burden on her employer, but does nothing to prevent her from becoming too much of a burden on others.
She announced that Alcmene had safely delivered her child, and this surprised Lucina so much that she immediately jumped up and unclenched her hands.
" She disguises herself in virginal white robes and a veil ( much like Philia's ) to try to catch Senex being unfaithful.
She is credited with preserving much of the land that now comprises the Lake District National Park.
She won so much land for her father's kingdom that Zeus became enraged and changed her into a monster.
She steered clear of the controversial Eakins, though she much admired his work.
She wrote, " Fleury is much less benign than Bouguereau and don't temper his severities … he hinted of possibilities before me and as he rose said the nicest thing of all, ' we will do all we can to help you '… I want these men … to know me and recognize that I can do something.
She spends much of her time with Ein.
According to lexicographer William Smith, " She was accused of too much familiarity with Orestes, prefect of Alexandria, and the charge spread among the clergy, who took up the notion that she interrupted the friendship of Orestes with their archbishop, Cyril.
She impressed the Pope so much that he returned his administration to Rome in January 1377.
She was chronically ill as a child and spent much of her time reading literature of the fantastic.
She had not given Orwell much notice about this operation because of worries about the cost and because she expected to make a speedy recovery.

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