They crawled through the north fence and came on toward him, and now he saw that both were young, not more than nineteen or twenty.

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

They passed ranches that were framed dark gray against the black hills.

They were tethered, army style, on stable lines.

They bawled questions that were not answered in the uproar.

They were about a mile off ; ;

They weren't sleeping, of course, but they thought they were doing him a favor by pretending.

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

They were going to town, and they were both excited.

They were free.

They were in a fight, outweighed in both numbers and money.

They were sitting on their heels, rider-fashion, over by the still empty calf wagon.

They were considering it gravely, neither seeming to like what he planned.

They were silent for a little while, each looking glum.

They were all good men.

They were headed straight for each other on a collision course.

`` They were supposed to meet Thor at nine PM for a conference concerning the ad campaign for their soap, a new angle based on this SX-21 stuff ''.

They were married over the week-end, though he was easily sixty and she could not have been even thirty.

They were west of the Sabine, but only God knew where.

They were engulfed by the weird silence, broken only by the low, angry murmur of the river.

They were already swollen to bursting.

They are huge areas which have been swept by winds for so many centuries that there is no soil left, but only deep bare ridges fifty or sixty yards apart with ravines between them thirty or forty feet deep and the only thing that moves is a scuttling layer of sand.

They never troubled themselves about us while we were playing, because the fence formed such a definite boundary and `` Don't go outside the gate '' was a command so impossible of misinterpretation.

Lautner, for his part, `` belonged to the present-day race of small artists, who do not demand the utmost of themselves '', and the bitter description of the type includes such epithets as `` wretched little poseurs '', the devastating indictment `` they do not know how to be wretched decently and in order '', and the somewhat extreme prophecy, so far not fulfilled: `` They will be destroyed ''.

They are leaving so fast that the president of the West German Employers' Federation issued an appeal this week to factory workers in the West to volunteer for six months' front-line work in factories in West Berlin.

They looked, even so.

They were always trying so you got to expect it.

They were both so young, after all, so unready for any final parting.

They had been fed a hunting breakfast, so called because a kedgeree, the dish identified with fox hunting, was on the bill.

They must learn to wear several hats, so to speak, working with management, sales and engineering problems related to the product.

They looked so formidable, however, so demanding, that I found myself staring at them in dismay and starting to woolgather again, this time about Francesca and her husband.

They initiate campaigns, so to speak, even if this initiation is diffused among them, and their concerted action only psychologically organized.

They generally vote so as to serve their own constituency, and if the constituency should be solidly middle class or solidly lower class, they might be expected to vote and work for middle- or for lower-class interests in education.

They are in themselves neutral, and, so far as they get a moral quality, they get it only through being invested with it by the attitude of the onlooker.

They learn to like these so well that it isn't surprising to hear that one boy tried the oats he was feeding his horse at chore time.

They tasted good to him, so he brought some to breakfast to eat in his cereal bowl with milk and honey.

They may even dismiss it from their minds as something that concerns only the `` ecclesiastical Rover Boys '', as someone has dubbed them, who like to go to national and international assemblies, and have expense accounts that permit them to do so.

They have not done so for the simple reason that such appeals have hardly ever been made.

They have insisted, rather, on living fully and completely within modern culture and, so far from considering this treason to God, have looked upon it as the only way they could be faithful to him.

They showed they were glad that Carnegie would have a major orchestra playing there so often next season to take up the slack with the departure to Lincoln Center of the New York Philharmonic, the Philadelphia Orchestra and the Boston Symphony.

They were covered with tiny white blossoms, their scant roots clawing at the stony ground, and wild birds darted in and about and through them so they were nearly alive with the rustle and cry.

They are about to do so at any moment as it is.

They combed their hair and streaked it at the part and greased the bangs so that the hair above their foreheads stood rigid like the tails of sage hens making love.