He reads deep books with long words in them.

He felt sick about saying goodbye like that.

“Oh, you’re a great man, all right,” he said.

“Never heard of them,” he remarked decisively.

He was a Magyar, a very nice boy and very shy.

They could see from his back how angry he was.

He and Ag could hear them below on the balcony.

He set down his suitcase and knocked on the door.

He turned me around again, politely and abruptly.

He was sitting on his bed now, cleaning a shotgun.

He pulled back the blanket from the Indian’s head.

“Pull back that quilt, will you, George?” he said.

“This lady is going to have a baby, Nick,” he said.

“But how is the movement going in Italy?” he asked.

“You go down after him,” said Maera, “he hates me.”

He bought the blacksmith shop from old man Horton.

I think he did right, though, shooting those chaps.

When he started to kill it was all in the same rush.

“No,” he said, very shyly, he did not like Mantegna.

“That’s one for the medical journal, George,” he said.

Then he heard his wife’s voice from the darkened room.

“Hell, Jimmy,” he said, “you oughtn’t to have done it.”

We waited till he got one leg over and then potted him.

He was very lazy but a great worker once he was started.

He heard his wife catch her breath when the door slammed.

“You’d better not saw it up then, Dick,” he said, shortly.

Then he turned away and walked up the hill to the cottage.

“How do you get to West Egg village?” he asked helplessly.

Drevitts got frightened when he found they were both dead.

Maera wanted to say something and found he could not talk.

She liked it about how white his teeth were when he smiled.

“Sorry,” he said, outside her window with the blinds drawn.

He found Nick sitting with his back against a tree, reading.

He went inside when he saw me and came downstairs disgusted.

He had cut his foot very badly with an ax three days before.

He was fat with only a few hairs of mustache like a Chinaman.

She liked it very much that he didn’t look like a blacksmith.

He had been like that since about four o’clock in the morning.

As he walked back along the halls he thought of Ag in his bed.

He had been in many towns, walked much, and seen many pictures.

He was looking away so as not to see what his father was doing.

He pushed the shells back in against the spring of the magazine.

He had casually conferred on me the freedom of the neighbourhood.

When he was satisfied with his hands he went in and went to work.

“Well, Doc,” he said, “that’s a nice lot of timber you’ve stolen.”

It flopped over his shoulder and made a musical sound as he walked.

In spite of Hungary, he believed altogether in the world revolution.

He was very eager to walk over the pass while the weather held good.

They did not even remember that he was middleweight boxing champion.

Before he went back to the front they went into the Duomo and prayed.