It all took a long time.

I must say he took it all pretty quietly.

Jim took a long pull on his way back to the house.

The others went down and took the bottles with them.

Liz took off her coat and leaned over and covered him with it.

Dick picked up the axes and Eddy took the saw down from the tree.

He took down his drink as if it were a drop in the bottom of a glass.

Liz took her coat off the peg on the kitchen wall and they went out the door.

In his last year at Princeton he read too much and took to wearing spectacles.

He lived upstairs above the blacksmith shop and took his meals at A. J. Smith’s.

He took a plug of tobacco out of his pocket, bit off a chew and spoke in Ojibway to Eddy and Billy Tabeshaw.

He reported at Bologna, and I took him with me up into the Romagna where it was necessary I go to see a man.

In the fall he and Smith and Charley Wyman took a wagon and tent, grub, axes, their rifles and two dogs and went on a trip to the pine plains beyond Vanderbilt deer hunting.

His family were enormously wealthy⁠—even in college his freedom with money was a matter for reproach⁠—but now he’d left Chicago and come East in a fashion that rather took your breath away: for instance, he’d brought down a string of polo ponies from Lake Forest.