"Let's go," Alex said, tucking his shirt into his pants.
She glanced down at her shirt and then laughed with relief.
There she changed into jeans, a T-shirt and sneakers.
"A soldier on leave--a shirt outside breeches," he would say.
He dropped the shirt and stepped over to her.
Life would be filled with mutual concessions I thought as I tucked my tee shirt into a bottom drawer.
From his square-toed boots to the white shirt tucked into indigo jeans, his lean frame was something to admire.
She walked stiffly to the closet, deciding quickly on a pair of blue jeans and a light shirt with a collar that would hide most of her neck.
He paused with a shirt in his hand, his expression surprised.
He nibbled at her shirt and she ran her fingers across his velvety muzzle.
As if in answer to her question, he dug a tin from his shirt pocket and handed it to her.
Jeans, sneakers and a Harvard tee shirt made up her attire.
She wore an oversized shirt and boxer shorts, neither of which was hers.
When he rejoined her, he'd put on a T-shirt and sandals.
He cut her shirt open while it charged and placed the paddles against her chest.
I will probably absorb vitamins through my skin as my shirt detects I need them.
One morning, between seven and eight, returning after a sleepless night, he sent for embers, changed his rain-soaked underclothes, said his prayers, drank tea, got warm, then tidied up the things on the table and in his own corner, and, his face glowing from exposure to the wind and with nothing on but his shirt, lay down on his back, putting his arms under his head.
And a minute or two later the Frenchman, a black-eyed fellow with a spot on his cheek, in shirt sleeves, really did jump out of a window on the ground floor, and clapping Pierre on the shoulder ran with him into the garden.
I said Friday and here it is, ready, said Platon, smiling and unfolding the shirt he had sewn.
He tossed the shirt on the bed and walked silently to her.
One tormenting impression did not leave him: that those broad- boned reddish hands with hairy wrists visible from under the shirt sleeves, those hands which he loved and hated, held him in their power.
Among them stood a man whose white shirt was stained with blood.
My stockings and shirt... and the water is running on my seat!
Wearing a waistcoat over his cotton shirt, Ferapontov was standing before his shop which opened onto the street.
He was the same as ever, but the feverish color of his face, his glittering eyes rapturously turned toward her, and especially his neck, delicate as a child's, revealed by the turn-down collar of his shirt, gave him a peculiarly innocent, childlike look, such as she had never seen on him before.
"But perhaps that's my shirt on the table," he thought, "and that's my legs, and that is the door, but why is it always stretching and drawing itself out, and 'piti-piti-piti' and 'ti-ti' and 'piti-piti-piti'...?
He was evidently afraid the prisoners looking on would laugh at him, and thrust his head into the shirt hurriedly.
Platon kept repeating, pulling the shirt straight.
The Frenchman, having pushed his head and hands through, without raising his eyes, looked down at the shirt and examined the seams.
Pierre looked at the soldier and remembered that, two days before, that man had burned his shirt while drying it at the fire and how they had laughed at him.
"Let go of my shirt, Adrienne," Brandon said as he grabbed her shoulders.
She turned her back on Bordeaux and pulled her shirt from her pants, unbuttoning it so that the water could reach the sweat stained area under her breasts.
He waded out of the water and laid his socks and shirt on a rock in the sun to dry.
Too late she realized that her shirt would do the same.
She turned away from him, pulling the shirt away from her chest.
Pulling on his half-dry socks and tugging into his boots, he picked up his shirt and left the area.
Through his shirt sleeves she could feel the swell of his biceps and her heart jumped into high gear.
She inspected a tee shirt of mine, sniffed it with disgust, and tossed it into a trash can across the room.
He tried in vain to stop the water flow.
He was wearing a shirt and his unfastened necktie was hanging in my face.
I could barely make out the emblem on the front of the Harvard Tee shirt it was so drenched in blood.
She is naked except for an old tee shirt of mine which, out of my benevolence I allowed her to wear.
There was a large man's tee shirt lying on the floor and I hurriedly put it on.
"Don't have time, don't want the drama," he replied and swiped his T-shirt from the ground.
The jeans, T-shirt, and sandals would suffice.
T-shirt, sweater, gloves.
Damian pulled off his sweater to reveal a black T-shirt and tucked weapons into his cargo pants, boots, and pockets.
As I walk along the stony shore of the pond in my shirt-sleeves, though it is cool as well as cloudy and windy, and I see nothing special to attract me, all the elements are unusually congenial to me.
The prisoners in their shirt-sleeves were enjoying a chat and the evening air in the doorway, when I entered.
"Jacob, bring a bottle!" shouted the host, a tall, handsome fellow who stood in the midst of the group, without a coat, and with his fine linen shirt unfastened in front.
Dolokhov's back in his white shirt, and his curly head, were lit up from both sides.
When Prince Andrew reached the room prepared for him and lay down in a clean shirt on the feather bed with its warmed and fragrant pillows, he felt that the battle of which he had brought tidings was far, far away from him.
Several battalions of soldiers, in their shirt sleeves despite the cold wind, swarmed in these earthworks like a host of white ants; spadefuls of red clay were continually being thrown up from behind the bank by unseen hands.
When the officers had emptied and smashed their glasses, Kirsten filled others and, in shirt sleeves and breeches, went glass in hand to the soldiers' bonfires and with his long gray mustache, his white chest showing under his open shirt, he stood in a majestic pose in the light of the campfire, waving his uplifted arm.
The doctor with his shirt sleeves tucked up, without a coat, pale and with a trembling jaw, came out of the room.
Those broad, reddish hands, with hairy wrists visible from under the shirt cuffs, laid down the pack and took up a glass and a pipe that were handed him.
The Mason drew the shirt back from Pierre's left breast, and stooping down pulled up the left leg of his trousers to above the knee.
Unbuckling his belt, he pulled his shirt up and examined the knife scar on his abdomen.
Then she unbuttoned the first few buttons on his shirt and slipped her arms around his neck.
Beginning at his dusty oxfords and indigo blue jeans, her scrutiny continued up to a neatly tucked in worn white cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up to mid arm.
She stood and wiped her face with her shirt sleeves, still hiccoughing.
He towered over them both, the muscles in his arms and shoulders straining against his shirt as he hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans.
She relaxed her grip on his shirt and allowed him to guide her back to the couch.
She sat up, tucking her shirt back into her pants.
She could set her clock by his arrival - eight o'clock every Friday night - in a blue plaid western shirt and battered black cowboy hat.
He was wearing a hooded sweat shirt and gloves.
She was dressed in her Harvard tee shirt and pajama bottoms.
A tall, toned woman who looked like she did Pilates for a living stood in the hall in tight black leather pants and a tight pink T-shirt that drew attention to her large breasts.
She tugged off her shirt and wrapped it in towels to dry it before tossing it in the dryer.
She wore a T-shirt and shorts that revealed her shapely, soft legs.
Dusty strode to the small gym behind the main house, stripping off his jacket and shirt as he did so.
Speck tossed him his shirt, which he donned as he listened.
Dusty was quiet, and Jule searched the floor for his shirt and jacket.
She wore only a long shirt to her knees that twisted to her stomach with her fall.
Unlike the others dressed for a white tie event, he was dressed in leather pants with a tight black Pearl Jam T-shirt, his hair braided, a chain from his spiked belt to his wallet, and heavy black boots.
It didn't take much for her to imagine what the body beneath the tight shirt was like.
His visitor wore a T-shirt and had hair the color of last night's sunset.
She wore jeans and a T-shirt, and her blonde hair fanned out over a pillow.
The thought of him without his shirt on, or better yet, naked … "No way in hell," she breathed.
"Han said you were out doing battle last night," she said, noticing the shredded T-shirt on the floor.
Rapidly and timidly raising his fingers to his forehead by way of greeting, he asked Pierre whether the soldier Platoche to whom he had given a shirt to sew was in that shed.
He pulled the shirt tails out of his pants and shucked it.
He wore a snug T-shirt that displayed the roped forearms covered in tattoos.
For a long time he was silent, as if astonished, then he jumped out of bed, ran to me in his shirt, and sobbed so that I could not calm him for a long time.
Do you have a short-sleeved shirt in there for me?