"No one has seen the guy for several days," her husband answered.
Sharon was born shortly after my husband remarried.
After all, her husband was the one who had custody of the boy.
My husband has taken time away from school he shouldn't have and is pressuring me to do the same at the hospital.
The old lady babbled something to her husband about Howie, and naturally, Howie doesn't know what guy is talking about.
Call my husband and Howie Abbott and summon them.
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.
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.
I drove the few miles to Howie's home feeling as guilty as a cheating husband for leaving Betsy alone and uninformed.
All of us are feeling the pressure plus you have a new baby and a cranky husband who isn't helping you a bit.
She drank herself blotto because her husband is a shithead.
I don't know if Betsy was becoming immune to alarming news or if her husband was paranoid.
She introduced herself and her husband as Sadie and Sid, with no last names.
A wave of guilt passed over me like fog on a beach party; guilt like a pants-down lover when the husband comes home.
My name is Elizabeth Anne Morganthaw Gustefson, called Betsy and I'm writing these horrifying remembrances at the request of my husband Ben.
She'll give up her husband who she practically calls stupid and this other Abbott person just so she can live.
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.
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."
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."
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.