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 showed her surprise by tightening the reins and moving the gelding around so that she could get a better look at his face.

She must be cautious so as not to alert the scheming forest.

She began it deliberately, so that none of her words would be lost on him.

She got so drunk I had to take her home.

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 would sometimes even get a little hard on you, she took you so seriously.

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 had felt that her arm wanted to go up in the first trial, but had consciously prevented it from so doing.

She did not go so far as to say, as was done on other occasions, that Abstraction as well as Impressionism were a Russian invention that had been discarded as unwanted by the people of the U.S.S.R.

She seemed so anxious to go on the stage that some of her friends in the cocktail circuit set up a practical joke.

She spoke also with deep thankfulness of the many individuals and agencies whose interest and efforts through the years had made the work so fruitful in results.

She wouldn't be going to get that for an hour or so after Katya had left, go do the daily shopping.

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 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 was generous with her encores and the audience was equally so with its cheers and applause and flowers.

She was so heavy that Maggie's arms shook from lifting her and taking care of her.

She was so beautiful, so valiant, so pitiable.

She sounded so exactly like Doaty that Henrietta obeyed her under the clear impression that she could either comply or stay home.

She pursed her lips, then clamped them together so tightly that I thought she was angry with me.