He was a good husband and father.
Sharon was born shortly after my husband remarried.
"No one has seen the guy for several days," her husband answered.
I drove the few miles to Howie's home feeling as guilty as a cheating husband for leaving Betsy alone and uninformed.
You're a wonderful husband and father.
My husband has taken time away from school he shouldn't have and is pressuring me to do the same at the hospital.
She drank herself blotto because her husband is a shithead.
The old lady babbled something to her husband about Howie, and naturally, Howie doesn't know what guy is talking about.
She introduced herself and her husband as Sadie and Sid, with no last names.
My name is Elizabeth Anne Morganthaw Gustefson, called Betsy and I'm writing these horrifying remembrances at the request of my husband Ben.
She looked up at her husband as he began to dress "It's as if she's done something wrong and wants to talk about it but doesn't know how."
After donning a heavy jacket against the mountain chill and continuing dampness, she kissed her husband goodbye.
She immediately came out, a note in one hand and SB, Fred's stuffed owl gift in the other and handed her husband the paper.
Hope that you'll start accepting me as your husband - your mate; not just a lover.
I want what you have - a husband who loves me - and children.
Maybe she was right, and if Alex hadn't been such a perfect husband in every other way, she might have done it.
After all, her husband was the one who had custody of the boy.
If the boy had been his, how would his good intentions have made her husband feel?
If she had stayed with her husband and they had more children, would he have felt financially responsible for the others as well?
Cynthia, this is Claudette Lander and her husband Carl.
My husband did a lot of work fixing the settings on when Annie died and kept pushing Howie.
Martha gave her husband a searing snarl and reminded him it was Howie's life and not ours.
The caller was the husband of Howie's mother, his step-father, informing him that his mother had suffered a serious heart attack and was in critical condition.
She'll give up her husband who she practically calls stupid and this other Abbott person just so she can live.
Call my husband and Howie Abbott and summon them.
You threw me out with nowhere to go after the man who was meant to be my husband was killed.
She saw Damian watch the new king get his tattoo as a rite of passage, saw it again as Claire made love to the man meant to be her husband, saw it in Isac's vision as he hacked the tattooed man apart.
Cynthia gave her husband a cautious glance.
Cynthia explained this was a second marriage and her first husband had died.
"Maybe from back there," her husband answered, "but anyone would know it was a joke."
Not now, added her husband, hurrying after his brother.
Cynthia and her husband were appreciative of his efforts, which Dean knew came as much from nerves over his pending jury duty as early morning kindness.
"Let's do this sensibly," Cynthia said, taking a deep breath, as nervous as her husband at the prospect of entering the cavern.
Cynthia looked to her husband for agreement but before he could second her suggestion, Westlake once again jammed the old vehicle in gear.
However, the woman and her husband were leaving to continue a summer-long trip westward.
I pity the poor husband, that little officer who gives himself the airs of a monarch.
(she looked significantly at her husband) "I'm afraid, I'm afraid!" she whispered, and a shudder ran down her back.
"Mon Dieu, mon Dieu!" she muttered, and lifting her dress with one hand she went up to her husband and kissed him on the forehead.
The countess in turn, without omitting her duties as hostess, threw significant glances from behind the pineapples at her husband whose face and bald head seemed by their redness to contrast more than usual with his gray hair.
"Why, this is a palace!" she said to her husband, looking around with the expression with which people compliment their host at a ball.
And with a glance round, she smiled at Tikhon, at her husband, and at the footman who accompanied them.
"Countess Apraksina, poor thing, has lost her husband and she has cried her eyes out," she said, growing more and more lively.
Princess Helene asked to see the portrait of the aunt's husband on the box lid.
She fancied a child, her own--such as she had seen the day before in the arms of her nurse's daughter--at her own breast, the husband standing by and gazing tenderly at her and the child.
The handsome open face of the man who might perhaps be her husband absorbed all her attention.
"Is he really to be my husband, this stranger who is so kind--yes, kind, that is the chief thing," thought Princess Mary; and fear, which she had seldom experienced, came upon her.
Rostov looked inimically at Pierre, first because Pierre appeared to his hussar eyes as a rich civilian, the husband of a beauty, and in a word--an old woman; and secondly because Pierre in his preoccupation and absent-mindedness had not recognized Rostov and had not responded to his greeting.
She saw her husband, but did not realize the significance of his appearance before her now.
The old countess, waiting for the return of her husband and son, sat playing patience with the old gentlewoman who lived in their house.
This expression suggested that she had resolved to endure her troubles uncomplainingly and that her husband was a cross laid upon her by God.
"You know her husband, of course?" said Anna Pavlovna, closing her eyes and indicating Helene with a sorrowful gesture.
In this group Helene, as soon as she had settled in Petersburg with her husband, took a very prominent place.
Pierre was just the husband needed for a brilliant society woman.
He was that absent-minded crank, a grand seigneur husband who was in no one's way, and far from spoiling the high tone and general impression of the drawing room, he served, by the contrast he presented to her, as an advantageous background to his elegant and tactful wife.
Husband and wife glanced at one another, both smiling with self-satisfaction, and each mentally claiming the honor of this visit.
Now a fine young fellow must be found as husband for you.
Coldly, without looking at her son, she sent for her husband and, when he came, tried briefly and coldly to inform him of the facts, in her son's presence, but unable to restrain herself she burst into tears of vexation and left the room.
But instead of all that--here he was, the wealthy husband of an unfaithful wife, a retired gentleman-in-waiting, fond of eating and drinking and, as he unbuttoned his waistcoat, of abusing the government a bit, a member of the Moscow English Club, and a universal favorite in Moscow society.
My husband is away in Tver or I would send him to fetch you.
So she knows I am engaged, and she and her husband Pierre--that good Pierre--have talked and laughed about this.
Her husband, the doctor, lay asleep behind her.
She, seeing herself surrounded by such brilliant and polite young men, beamed with satisfaction, try as she might to hide it, and perturbed as she evidently was each time her husband moved in his sleep behind her.
The mistress rocked and hushed her baby and when anyone came into the cellar asked in a pathetic whisper what had become of her husband who had remained in the street.
Her husband has welcomed his Serene Highness with the cross at the church, and she intends to welcome him in the house....
And as it always happens in contests of cunning that a stupid person gets the better of cleverer ones, Helene--having realized that the main object of all these words and all this trouble was, after converting her to Catholicism, to obtain money from her for Jesuit institutions (as to which she received indications)-before parting with her money insisted that the various operations necessary to free her from her husband should be performed.
But tell me, how will your husband look at the matter?
She consulted a Russian priest as to the possibility of divorce and remarriage during a husband's lifetime, and the priest told her that it was impossible, and to her delight showed her a text in the Gospel which (as it seemed to him) plainly forbids remarriage while the husband is alive.
The presence of Sonya, of her beloved Natasha, or even of her husband irritated her.
The countess glanced at her daughter, saw her face full of shame for her mother, saw her agitation, and understood why her husband did not turn to look at her now, and she glanced round quite disconcerted.
The woman's husband, a short, round- shouldered man in the undress uniform of a civilian official, with sausage-shaped whiskers and showing under his square-set cap the hair smoothly brushed forward over his temples, with expressionless face was moving the trunks, which were placed one on another, and was dragging some garments from under them.
"Don't, Mary Nikolievna!" said her husband to her in a low voice, evidently only to justify himself before the stranger.
With the naive conviction of young men in a merry mood that other men's wives were created for them, Rostov did not leave the lady's side and treated her husband in a friendly and conspiratorial style, as if, without speaking of it, they knew how capitally Nicholas and the lady would get on together.
The husband, however, did not seem to share that conviction and tried to behave morosely with Rostov.
The husband came up and sullenly asked his wife what she was talking about.
The husband smiled gloomily, the wife gaily.
One is sorry for the husband, really....
Countess Mary turned red and then pale, but continued to sit with head bowed and lips compressed and gave her husband no reply.
Natasha had been staying at her brother's with her husband and children since early autumn.
When her husband took his place she concluded, from the rapid manner in which after taking up his table napkin he pushed back the tumbler and wineglass standing before him, that he was out of humor, as was sometimes the case when he came in to dinner straight from the farm--especially before the soup.
When they left the table and went as usual to thank the old countess, Countess Mary held out her hand and kissed her husband, and asked him why he was angry with her.
She sat down and played with them a little, but the thought of her husband and his unreasonable crossness worried her.
That happened only when, as was the case that day, her husband returned home, or a sick child was convalescent, or when she and Countess Mary spoke of Prince Andrew (she never mentioned him to her husband, who she imagined was jealous of Prince Andrew's memory), or on the rare occasions when something happened to induce her to sing, a practice she had quite abandoned since her marriage.
Since their marriage Natasha and her husband had lived in Moscow, in Petersburg, on their estate near Moscow, or with her mother, that is to say, in Nicholas' house.
"Only she lets her love of her husband and children overflow all bounds," said the countess, "so that it even becomes absurd."
She took no pains with her manners or with delicacy of speech, or with her toilet, or to show herself to her husband in her most becoming attitudes, or to avoid inconveniencing him by being too exacting.
She felt that the allurements instinct had formerly taught her to use would now be merely ridiculous in the eyes of her husband, to whom she had from the first moment given herself up entirely--that is, with her whole soul, leaving no corner of it hidden from him.
The subject which wholly engrossed Natasha's attention was her family: that is, her husband whom she had to keep so that he should belong entirely to her and to the home, and the children whom she had to bear, bring into the world, nurse, and bring up.
A husband was given her and he gave her a family.
And she not only saw no need of any other or better husband, but as all the powers of her soul were intent on serving that husband and family, she could not imagine and saw no interest in imagining how it would be if things were different.
At home Natasha placed herself in the position of a slave to her husband, and the whole household went on tiptoe when he was occupied--that is, was reading or writing in his study.
It very often happened that in a moment of irritation husband and wife would have a dispute, but long afterwards Pierre to his surprise and delight would find in his wife's ideas and actions the very thought against which she had argued, but divested of everything superfluous that in the excitement of the dispute he had added when expressing his opinion.
While attending to him she bore the anxiety about her husband more easily.
The storm was long since over and there was bright, joyous sunshine on Natasha's face as she gazed tenderly at her husband and child.
"Now, Nicholas," she added, turning to her husband, "I can't understand how it is you don't see the charm of these delicious marvels."
Natasha, who was sitting opposite to him with her eldest daughter on her lap, turned her sparkling eyes swiftly from her husband to the things he showed her.
After the deaths of her son and husband in such rapid succession, she felt herself a being accidentally forgotten in this world and left without aim or object for her existence.
Natasha was the first to speak, defending her husband and attacking her brother.
Countess Mary listened to her husband and understood all that he told her.
Natasha and Pierre, left alone, also began to talk as only a husband and wife can talk, that is, with extraordinary clearness and rapidity, understanding and expressing each other's thoughts in ways contrary to all rules of logic, without premises, deductions, or conclusions, and in a quite peculiar way.
Natasha was so used to this kind of talk with her husband that for her it was the surest sign of something being wrong between them if Pierre followed a line of logical reasoning.
No one could deny that Alex was a devoted husband and father.
Does her husband know what she's doing?
You don't want a husband, Adrienne, you want a live-in career pal.
A woman your age ought to be looking for a husband – or already married, not chasing all over creation in pants, trying to act like a man.
She looked at her husband, the most closed minded among us, when she spoke.
Betsy's loving boss presented the most difficulty but she used the excuse her new husband was transferred to New Hampshire.
All of us are feeling the pressure plus you have a new baby and a cranky husband who isn't helping you a bit.
I don't know if Betsy was becoming immune to alarming news or if her husband was paranoid.
A wave of guilt passed over me like fog on a beach party; guilt like a pants-down lover when the husband comes home.
Linda texted back and forth with her husband for a few minutes.
I'm not sure how betraying everything your husband stood for would excuse anything you did.
Who else can you tell about your husband beheading five vamps?
She was surprised Martha had taken to heart what her husband said the prior evening.
There was no time for Cynthia to talk to her husband, who was busy serving breakfast to the late sleepers while she showed Maria, by hand communication, the upstairs chores of Bird Song.
It was that day his ma and her husband took us up in Governor's Basin for a picnic.
Macbeth is the story of a ruthless wife, Lady Macbeth, who persuades her husband to murder the king and take his throne.
"You know," said the princess in the same tone of voice and still in French, turning to a general, "my husband is deserting me?
The princess, picking up her dress, was taking her seat in the dark carriage, her husband was adjusting his saber; Prince Hippolyte, under pretense of helping, was in everyone's way.
Before leaving, Napoleon showed favor to the emperor, kings, and princes who had deserved it, reprimanded the kings and princes with whom he was dissatisfied, presented pearls and diamonds of his own--that is, which he had taken from other kings--to the Empress of Austria, and having, as his historian tells us, tenderly embraced the Empress Marie Louise--who regarded him as her husband, though he had left another wife in Paris--left her grieved by the parting which she seemed hardly able to bear.