Sighing again, she opened her door.
Sighing deeply, he told Rita he was finished for the day, jogged down the stairs to his car, and fought the late afternoon crosstown traffic to Ethel Rosewater's office.
The first mouthful tasted like bitter honey and she drank the bottle down, sighing again.
Then, sighing, he added: My son's fate is in your hands.
She didn't object when his fangs bit into her, instead sighing as the comforting warmth consumed her.
He dropped the rag from his mouth and rolled his eyes, sighing with exasperation.
Sighing, Jessi tried tapping the ground, waving her fingers, even using her ponytail to try to lure the cat out.
They got out, and she lingered, sighing in happiness at the pleasure she was likely never to experience again after this week.
And sighing disdainfully, he again changed his position.
"Yes, Dmitri, clean ones, please," said the countess, sighing deeply.
My brother dined with me yesterday--we nearly died of laughter--he ate nothing and kept sighing for you, my charmer!
One night when the old countess, in nightcap and dressing jacket, without her false curls, and with her poor little knob of hair showing under her white cotton cap, knelt sighing and groaning on a rug and bowing to the ground in prayer, her door creaked and Natasha, also in a dressing jacket with slippers on her bare feet and her hair in curlpapers, ran in.
First she heard her mother praying and sighing and the creaking of her bed under her, then Madame Schoss' familiar whistling snore and Sonya's gentle breathing.
The countess lowered her eyes, sighing deeply.
Was already sighing for the easy life of Touraine, and recurring to that policy of truce which was so strongly urged by his counsellors, and so keenly irritating to the clear-sighted Joan of Arc. A check before Paris allowed the jealousy of La Trmoille to waste the heroine for eight months on operations of secondary importance, until the day when she was captured by the Burgundians under the walls of Compigne, and sold by them to the English.
I will go on till my legs fail, and I'll lie down and die somewhere, and shall at last reach that eternal, quiet haven, where there is neither sorrow nor sighing... thought Princess Mary.
Nicholas replied that he could not go back on his word, and his father, sighing and evidently disconcerted, very soon became silent and went in to the countess.