Ag sat on the bed.

It was cold on the water.

The sun shone on his face.

Come on back to the hotel.

He went to America on a boat from Genoa.

Ag stayed on night duty for three months.

And as I walked on I was lonely no longer.

He and Ag could hear them below on the balcony.

We talked for a few minutes on the sunny porch.

Inside on a wooden bunk lay a young Indian woman.

He set down his suitcase and knocked on the door.

There were wet dead leaves on the paving of the courtyard.

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

They rushed it, and officers came out alone and worked on it.

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

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

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

The corridor was high and narrow with tiers of cells on either side.

They laid Maera down on a cot and one of the men went for the doctor.

The other lay flat on his cot with a blanket wrapped around his head.

They whack-whacked the white horse on the legs and he kneed himself up.

Carts were jammed solid on the bridge with camels bobbing along through them.

It was much lighter on the logging road as the timber was cut away on both sides.

Before I could answer her eyes fastened with an awed expression on her little finger.

He had so much equipment on and looked awfully surprised and fell down into the garden.

The young Indian stopped and blew out his lantern and they all walked on along the road.

He was very shy and quite young and the train men passed him on from one crew to another.

“I’m stiff,” she complained, “I’ve been lying on that sofa for as long as I can remember.”

When they fired the first volley he was sitting down in the water with his head on his knees.

Hortons Bay, the town, was only five houses on the main road between Boyne City and Charlevoix.

He was a good horseshoer and did not look much like a blacksmith even with his leather apron on.

On the train from Padua to Milan they quarreled about her not being willing to come home at once.

Nick’s father ordered some water to be put on the stove, and while it was heating he spoke to Nick.

I went back to the hotel and Maera was on the balcony looking out to see if I’d be bringing him back.

After he got on crutches he used to take the temperatures so Ag would not have to get up from the bed.

Tom Buchanan, who had been hovering restlessly about the room, stopped and rested his hand on my shoulder.

“You make me feel uncivilized, Daisy,” I confessed on my second glass of corky but rather impressive claret.

When they operated on him she prepared him for the operating table; and they had a joke about friend or enema.

It was lonely for a day or so until one morning some man, more recently arrived than I, stopped me on the road.

We went to work on the trench and in the morning the sun came up and the day was hot and muggy and cheerful and quiet.

At Bologna he said goodbye to us to go on the train to Milano and then to Aosta to walk over the pass into Switzerland.

Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes, but after a certain point I don’t care what it’s founded on.

I must have stood for a few moments listening to the whip and snap of the curtains and the groan of a picture on the wall.

He went under the anaesthetic holding tight on to himself so he would not blab about anything during the silly, talky time.

And so it happened that on a warm windy evening I drove over to East Egg to see two old friends whom I scarcely knew at all.

I told her how I had stopped off in Chicago for a day on my way East, and how a dozen people had sent their love through me.

Over his head was a bull’s head, stuffed by a Madrid taxidermist; on the walls were framed photographs and bullfight posters.

“Now, don’t think my opinion on these matters is final,” he seemed to say, “just because I’m stronger and more of a man than you are.”

So I went down and caught up with them and grabbed him while he was crouched down waiting for the music to break loose and said, “Come on, Luis.”

The only completely stationary object in the room was an enormous couch on which two young women were buoyed up as though upon an anchored balloon.