The log moved in the sand.

I’m absolutely in training.

We were in a garden in Mons.

We’ll know in a little while.

He had been hit in the spine.

Dick said something in Ojibway.

You will if you stay in the East.

In the upper bunk was her husband.

The king was working in the garden.

Nick trailed his hand in the water.

The log was just awash in the lake.

It slid off, thinning in the water.

He loved the mountains in the autumn.

There were chimney swifts in the sky.

Nick put the basin out in the kitchen.

Manuel went in, carrying his suitcase.

Things were getting forward in the town.

“Put it right in,” Dick Boulton shouted.

She was cool and fresh in the hot night.

“Who’s there?” said someone in the office.

They were still in their wrappers unopened.

Give me the book, I’ll put it in my pocket.

There were pools of water in the courtyard.

The open razor lay edge up in the blankets.

He reads deep books with long words in them.

“Better get one,” said a man in a derby hat.

A bass jumped, making a circle in the water.

Jim and Charley were still in the front room.

Uncle George was smoking a cigar in the dark.

I spoke to him about the Mantegnas in Milano.

It felt warm in the sharp chill of the morning.

It was cool in the woods even on such a hot day.

An old woman stood in the doorway holding a lamp.

The two men smiled when Jim came in with the jug.

Uncle George sat in the stern of the camp rowboat.

The prisoners had been brought in for the hanging.

She lay in the lower bunk, very big under a quilt.

The bull looking at him straight in front, hating.

In two weeks it’ll be the longest day in the year.

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

What she is going through is called being in labor.

All the old women in the camp had been helping her.

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

“You live in West Egg,” she remarked contemptuously.

Rinaldi lay still in the sun, breathing with difficulty.

The men washed up and waited in the front room for supper.

They came out onto the gallows through a door in the wall.

“Now,” his father said, “there’s some stitches to put in.”

Five men sentenced to be hanged were in the five top cells.

The husband in the upper bunk rolled over against the wall.