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 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 said, with the solicitude of a middle-aged woman for her only child.

She has shared her husband's greatness, but only within the confines of their home ; ;

She is not only a trained mathematician and Classicist, but a good architect.

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 a living doll and no mistake -- the blue-black bang, the wide cheekbones, olive-flushed, that betrayed the Cherokee strain in her Midwestern lineage, and the mouth whose only fault, in the novelist's carping phrase, was that the lower lip was a trifle too voluptuous.

She had quarreled with Lucien, she had resisted his demands for money -- and if she died, by the provisions of her marriage contract, Lucien would inherit legally not only the immediate sum of gold under the floorboards in the office, but later, when the war was over, her father's entire estate.

She paused at the kitchen door, caught her breath, told herself firmly that the opium was only an attempt to frighten her and went into the kitchen, where Glendora was eyeing the chickens dismally and Maude was cleaning lamp chimneys.

She found this a marvel because, as she said, only six per cent of English people are churchgoers.

She was only ten months older than he.

She didn't want to be the only one with a stove in her room, especially as her life span was nearly run out anyway, and she insisted that Hope have the heater.

She had come to make her peace with the past, and of that past this ancient of the earth was only a kind of shadow.

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 felt, and said, that sympathy only made people feel sorry for themselves ; ;

She convinced him that he ought to be a member of some of the small tea-drinking parties she held at her rooms and in the end he complied with her wishes, although it was only rarely that he added anything to the random conversations.

She is also the only one in Poirot's universe to have noted that " It ’ s not natural for five or six people to be on the spot when B is murdered and all have a motive for killing B.

She is one of a few characters who played a major part in the original cause of the Trojan War itself: not only did she offer Helen of Troy to Paris, but the abduction was accomplished when Paris, seeing Helen for the first time, was inflamed with desire to have her — which is Aphrodite's realm.

She has only the ability to create a soulless body, and thus she is “ persuaded to undertake the journey to heaven to ask for a soul ,” and “ the Seven Liberal Arts produce a chariot for her ... the Five Senses are the horses ”.

She also was a stepmother to Claudia Antonia, Claudius ' daughter and only child from his second marriage to Aelia Paetina, and to the young Claudia Octavia and Britannicus, Claudius ' children with Valeria Messalina.

She proposes that Kant's first two premises only entail that we must try to achieve the perfect good, not that it is actually attainable.

She stayed for two years, winning a good-conduct medal in December 1836, and returning home only during Christmas and summer holidays.

She was the only character created at the request of MTV, who wanted a female character who could tolerate and handle the duo.