She had offered to walk, but Pamela knew she would not feel comfortable about her child until she had personally confided her to the care of the little pink woman who chose to be called `` Auntie ''.

She would return this symbol to the mountain, as one pours seed back into the soil every Spring or as ancient fertility cults demand annual human sacrifice.

She remembered little of her previous journey there with Grace, and she could but hope that her dedication to her mission would enable her to accomplish it.

She did not pause to consider what she would do if her plan should fail ; ;

She was sure she would reach the pool by climbing, and she clung to that belief despite the increasing number of obstacles.

She had the feeling that, under the mouldering leaves, there would be the bodies of dead animals, quietly decaying and giving their soil back to the mountain.

She could not scream, for even if a sound could take shape within her parched mouth, who would hear, who would listen??

She had to move in some direction -- any direction that would take her away from this evil place.

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

She would look at Jack, with that hidden something in her eyes, and Jack would see the Woman and become breathless and a little sick.

She was certain now that it would be no harder to bear her child here in such pleasant surroundings than at home in the big white house in Haverhill.

She would often go up on the roof to see the attendant take down the flag in the evening.

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 would hover over him and, looking like her brother, anxiously watch the progress of Scotty's fork or spoon.

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 would not accept the death of such a little child.

She stood there, a large old woman, smiling at the things she would say to him in the morning, this big foolish baby of a son.

She and her husband had formerly lived in New York, where she had many friends, but Mr. Flannagan thought the country would be safer in case of war.

She would rather live in danger than die of loneliness and boredom.

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 had begun to turn back toward the house, but his look caught her and she stood still, waiting there for what his expression indicated would be a serious word of farewell.

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 realized I'd have to notify the police, but fervently hoped I could avoid mentioning her name.

She didn't have the heart.

She might have been someone he had once loved.

She wrote in her journal, `` I have not heard the least profane language since I have been on board the vessel.

She used to tell me, `` When I stand there and look at the flag blowing this way and that way, I have the wonderful, safe feeling that Americans are protected no matter which way the wind blows ''.

She was the opposite of everything she should have been -- a positive pole in a negative home, a living reaction of warmth and kindness to the harsh reality of her father.

`` She wants you and Barbara to have dinner with her tomorrow night ''.

She usually wore weeds, and a stranger watching her board a train might have guessed that Mr. Pastern was dead, but Mr. Pastern was far from dead.

She thought again of her children, those two who had died young, before the later science which might have saved them could attach even a label to their separate malignancies.

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 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 teamed up with another beauty, whose name has been lost to history, and commenced with some fiddling that would have made Nero envious.

She later divorced Graham, who is believed to have moved to Bolivia.

She must have looked temptingly pretty to the dean as he put the crown on her head.

She didn't like her stepmother, but nothing is known to have occurred shortly before the crime that could have caused such a murderous rage.

She would have been taking more than a fair risk of being seen and recognized during her travels.

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 was closing and within one more bound would have been able to reach the rear end of the bay, but -- and here Jones and Loveless and Ulyate were holding breath for all they were worth -- she never quite caught up that last bound.

She might have been talking to some of her friends about her husband if they've been having any trouble ''.

She refused to have a doctor, insisting there was nothing a doctor could do for her.

She might, conceivably, have brought one in in a large-enough suitcase.