I got to.

I’d like to.

Listen to me.

I’m going to.

We aint got to.

You know we got to.

Liz started to cry.

“Here’s to next year.”

“Tastes good to a man.”

Jim began to feel great.

Over to the Indian camp.

They were glad to let her.

Come on back to the hotel.

But it seemed to fit Cohn.

Well, you ought to see her.

He liked to get into fights.

“I want to work,” Manuel said.

He seemed very glad to see me.

We were going to the Champagne.

Her head was turned to one side.

Only to get a job and be married.

He had to stop and wash his hands.

He didn’t seem to notice her much.

“I want to go with you,” Nick said.

It don’t make any difference to me.

It belonged to Demaine, the oil man.

Dick Boulton turned to Nick’s father.

I’m going to sew up the incision I made.

His throat had been cut from ear to ear.

Maybe I’ll have to operate on this lady.

It was an awful mess to put you through.

He went to America on a boat from Genoa.

Again a sort of apology arose to my lips.

Ought to have a look at the proud father.

She had to have it but it frightened her.

Who the hell is going to make any trouble?

It was too late to get back to Charlevoix.

Three of the men to be hanged were negroes.

Like all Greeks he wanted to go to America.

The younger of the two was a stranger to me.

Do you want to hear about the butler’s nose?

Jim Gilmore came to Hortons Bay from Canada.

I spoke to him about the Mantegnas in Milano.

Horthy’s men had done some bad things to him.

“I want to see who it belongs to,” Dick said.

I know you didn’t mean to, but you did do it.

The bull could not make up his mind to charge.

The two Indians sent them back to the shanties.

It was stiff and hard to lift out of the wagon.

All her muscles are trying to get the baby born.