I’m absolutely in training.

We were in a garden in Mons.

He had been hit in the spine.

You will if you stay in the East.

In the upper bunk was her husband.

The king was working in the garden.

He loved the mountains in the autumn.

There were chimney swifts in the sky.

Manuel went in, carrying his suitcase.

Things were getting forward in the town.

She was cool and fresh in the hot night.

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

There were pools of water in the courtyard.

He reads deep books with long words in them.

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

Uncle George was smoking a cigar in the dark.

I spoke to him about the Mantegnas in Milano.

An old woman stood in the doorway holding a lamp.

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.

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

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

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

They were swearing at him and flopping the cape in his face.

Young Buckley came in with his patrol from across the river.

The last I heard of him the Swiss had him in jail near Sion.

Maera lay still, his head on his arms, his face in the sand.

And just after the war I spent two days with them in Chicago.

The whole battery was drunk going along the road in the dark.

The major did not marry her in the spring, or any other time.

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

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

Something in the door clicked several times and it swung open.

Two Austrian dead lay in the rubble in the shade of the house.

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

One of the white men sat on his cot with his head in his hands.

There was a great shouting going on in the grandstand overhead.

In the shanty nearest the road there was a light in the window.

I always watch for the longest day in the year and then miss it.

Manuel, standing in the hallway, felt there was someone in the room.

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