The shelling moved further up the line.

They rowed on out of sight of the mill, following the shore line.

She came in with the boat and ran the second line out the same way.

“Should I let it drop?” Marjorie called back, holding the line in her hand.

Marjorie rowed up the point a little way so she would not disturb the line.

Marjorie dropped the line overboard and watched the baits go down through the water.

He reeled in the slack line so the line ran taut out to where the bait rested on the sandy floor of the channel and set the click on the reel.

When a trout, feeding on the bottom, took the bait it would run with it, taking line out of the reel in a rush and making the reel sing with the click on.

One day she found that she liked it the way the hair was black on his arms and how white they were above the tanned line when he washed up in the washbasin outside the house.

Then Marjorie rowed the boat out over the channel-bank, holding the line in her teeth, and looking toward Nick, who stood on the shore holding the rod and letting the line run out from the reel.

The front was broken by a line of French windows, glowing now with reflected gold and wide open to the warm windy afternoon, and Tom Buchanan in riding clothes was standing with his legs apart on the front porch.

The Carraways are something of a clan, and we have a tradition that we’re descended from the Dukes of Buccleuch, but the actual founder of my line was my grandfather’s brother, who came here in fifty-one, sent a substitute to the Civil War, and started the wholesale hardware business that my father carries on today.