They were a pair of lost, whipped kids, Morgan thought as he went to bed.

They reined in there, Brannon remaining in the saddle while Hogan went to look for Jesse Macklin in the hotel dining room.

They went down in a heap and for a long minute there was nothing to see but flailing arms and legs.

They went as rigid as black statuary six figures, lean and tall and angular, went still.

They went after the squall as mercilessly as a wolf pack after an abandoned cow.

They went well-equipped with everything except knowledge of the `` outback '' country.

They went to the pawnshop of Joseph Miller of 1162 Sixth Avenue.

They were aware that soldiers went to town, in more ways than one, because of the monotony of camp life, to find the only release available in the absence of movies, reading rooms, and playing fields with adequate athletic equipment.

They went up against an SS unit of comparable size, over a little rise of ground, over an open field.

They went to the Flea Market, expecting to find the treasures of Europe, and found instead a duplication of that long double row of booths in Tours.

They went shopping in the neighborhood, and bought two loaves of bread with the ration coupons they had been given in Blois, and some cheese, and a dozen eggs, and a bag of oranges from a peddler in the Place Redoute -- the first oranges they had seen since they landed.

They got it over the side and clambered aboard only a few minutes before their schooner went under.

They went up onto a front porch and into a small hallway where a dim bulb burned high in the ceiling.

They went along the pass talking with each other for a short while until they came to a river roaring with torrent.

They attributed everything that went wrong in Russia to German influence and intrigue.

They looked at the ruins of the old Roman wall on the lower Via Veneto, then they went to the Farnese Gardens.

They went into the sun together and paraded grandly in their war clothes, painting their faces with the sacred attis dug far off in the cave of skeletons.

They had their first real fight, and Bobbie went off to get drunk.

They went downstairs, loaded a tray lavishly.

`` Mike darling '' -- They kissed, and went on kissing.

They left Grothendieck in the care of Wilhelm Heydorn, a Lutheran Pastor and teacher in Hamburg where he went to school.

They went to Nashville for three recording sessions with producer Owen Bradley.

They went on to establish the first mosque in the city.

They even went as far as to say pilots could do “ drive-up take-offs and drive-in landings ”, implying that flying these aircraft was as easy as driving a car.

They were dirty, their clothes were torn, and the girl was so exhausted that she fell when she was still twenty feet from the front door.

They were running from something.

They expected greater things from him, regardless of how trying the circumstances, and they were disappointed.

They got tin cups of coffee from the big pot on the coosie's fire, rolled and lighted brown-paper cigarettes, lounged about.

They closed in fast, kept him from reaching inside his coat for his gun.

They escorted him down from the porch and through the rain to his office.

They moved in on him, crowded him from all sides.

They would have to go west through the narrow river valley that separated Leyte from Samar and hope that it didn't close in before they returned.

They had never seen a tultul but they had heard about it from their fathers ''.

They had fought from caves, and the marines resorted to burning them out.

They bought rustled cattle from the outlaw, kept him supplied with guns and ammunition, harbored his men in their houses.

They whirled and saw him, standing there dim in the slatted light from the boarded freight wall.

They lay, with the birds hopping from branch to branch above them and the bright sky peeping down at them.

They squatted on their heels with their heads bent far forward, their eyes only a few inches from the ground.

`` They swear that every person smells different and every family smells different from every other.

They fought hard, but they were forgiving to former foes, and sought to prevent vindictive legislatures from confiscating Tory property in violation of the Treaty of 1783.

They may even enroll a colored student or two for show, though he usually turns out to be from Thailand, or any place other than the American South.

While convalescing in his Virginia home he wrote a book recording his prison experiences and escape, entitled: They Shall Not Have Me Published originally in ( Helion's ) English by Dutton & Co. of New York, in 1943, the book was received by the press as a work of astonishing literary power and one of the most realistic accounts of World War 2, from the French side.

They reincarnated the figures of human beings banished from his canvases since the 1920's.

They emerged as interchangeable cogs in a faulty but formidable machine: shaved nearly naked, hair queued, greatcoated, jackbooted, and best of all -- in the opinion of the British professional, Major Semple-Lisle -- `` their minds are not estranged from the paths of obedience by those smatterings of knowledge which only serve to lead to insubordination and mutiny ''.

They even accept the `` double standard '' of sex morality in a double sense, i.e., both sexes agree that standards for men differ from standards for women, and women apply to both sexes a standard different from that held by men.

`` They straggle at such a rate '', he told the commander-in-chief, `` that if the enemy were enterprising, they might get two from us, when we would take one of them, which makes me wish General Howe would go on, lest any incident happen to us ''.

They had risen from humble beginnings by their own diligence and astuteness, they were unfettered by the codes that bound nobles like Othon or even the older generation of clerks like Hotham, and they were working for an end that their opponents had never even visualized.

They had other topics of conversation, besides their news from courts and fairs, which were of interest to Othon, the builder of castles in Wales and churches in his native country.