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Page "Sara Jane Olson" ¶ 25
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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 rearrested
She was mistakenly released for five days in March 2008 due to an error made in calculating her parole before being rearrested.
She was held for two days then, and rearrested with the others on 10 February 1999.

She and when
She was not an overnight guest in the White House, but Mr. Ike Hoover, the chief usher, had Mama check her fur coat when she came in, and take care of her needs.
She had stood at the bottom of the stairs, as usual, when Mrs. Coolidge came down, in the same dress that is now in the Smithsonian, to greet her guests.
She entreated me to see a doctor, and when I refused, brought one out to see me.
She was still laughing when I grabbed her and started rolling her on the bed.
She stayed too late, and when she left, it was dark and time to go home and cook supper for her husband.
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 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 even spoke differently when she was clean, and she was clean now for his departure and her voice clear and rather sharp.
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 made General Burnside's horse's belly do so funny when it was upside down.
She ascribed her delight with both experiences to the effect they seemed to have of temporarily removing from her the controls which she felt so compulsively necessary to maintain even when it might seem appropriate to relax these controls.
She was hired and was found to be entirely satisfactory when she played the role eight hours a day.
She retreated by leaving the room when we suggested that our meeting might well terminate right then and there.
She was still in the play for pay business when she died, a top trollop who had given the world's oldest profession one of its rare flashes of glamour.
She thought royal status might come her way when, while she was still in Rome, she met Pulley Bey, a personal procurer to King Farouk of Egypt.
She was on the junk, and they slide fast when that happens.
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 may well be incapacitated by it when she is confronted with present and future alternatives -- e.g., whether to prepare primarily for a career or for the role of a homemaker ; ;
She was just waking up when we found her at the garage ''.
She had swished away, she had been gone for a long time probably when Sarah suddenly realized that she ought to stop her, pour out the coffee, so no one would drink it.
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.

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