He walked up the street to the next block.
Lots of the folks on the street had poor teeth and most of their clothes were practically rags.
There were even other people on the street and all he did was stop.
She didn't relax until they emerged onto the street, away from the Guardian.
"Toni, send your Traveler to grab the driver in the Camaro down the street," Dusty said, returning his gaze to the charred building in front of him.
Stay away from the southeast and northwest street corners.
It was light enough to see a long way in the deserted street and it seemed more like morning or evening than night.
The sidewalks were wooden and the street was dusty and unpaved.
I texted you the street address.
Driving was out of the question as the mid-morning parade, scheduled to begin in a few minutes, was forming on Main Street, which was now closed to traffic.
How about a shoot-out on Main Street at high noon?
A red brick municipal building stood at the far end of the street ahead of us.
The police blamed street violence though the neighborhood was wrong and girl had no known gang involvement.
I drove south toward town on the West Surry Road but instead of following Court Street, turned back north west on the Old Walpole to Howie's home.
She walked up the street to a better vantage point, curious to see what he hit.
Lydia lived in a newly constructed condo on Oak Street as it drifted out of the main body of town and became the back road to neighboring Ridgway, ten miles away.
The afternoon sun was high in the sky, baking the revelers in summer warmth as they clustered around the intersection of Sixth and Main Street, the site of the infamous water fight.
A space like a street was left between each two lines of troops.
Howie bounded out of the car and crossed to the newer side of the street where he had a better view of the few older buildings that remained.
For working quarters we secured a thirty year old building, recently vacated, on the beautiful main street of Keene.
I made it to the circle park at the head of Main Street and drank in the sunshine on a park bench.
Loreto Plaza Shopping Center up on State Street isn't a large ...
Her headache was now a migraine, and she shielded her eyes against the light from the street that filtered past her honeycomb blinds.
As Dean rolled his Jeep down the main street of Ouray, he caught sight of a familiar figure with a rounded haircut.
While the town was bursting at its seams for tomorrow's holiday, the side street where the Deans' inn was located was peacefully quiet.
As he started his Jeep, Ginger Dawkins, light blue sweater slung over her arm, came up the street and gave Dean an innocent wave.
Dean returned to Bird Song mid-morning, showered, and walked the three blocks to Diversions, a combination used book store, coffee shop, and local gathering place, on Sixth Street, a half block from Main.
Dean's suggestion about a public Internet connection a block away on Main Street was met with a dumb stare.
Dean left Bird Song on foot, passing up the temptation to drive his Jeep the short distance to the Main Street delicatessen.
Sheriff Fitzgerald hardly gave Dean enough time to exit his vehicle before tearing off up the street in the direction of the mountain road.
The couple strolled down Seventh Street to the bridge that crossed the Uncompahgre River as it spilled its way down from the mountains.
She continued up Seventh Street and turned south on Main and drove toward the mountains.
"Word on the street is that Darkyn took your power," the other said with a toothy grin.
Soon he reached the street and disappeared through a glass doorway into one of the glass buildings.
He turned and walked down the street, and after a moment's hesitation Dorothy caught Eureka in her arms and climbed into the buggy.
Immediately the Prince and all of his people flocked out of the hall into the street, that they might see what was about to happen.
Away they went through the village street and out upon the country road.
As they looked down the street they saw a horseman coming.
Fancy me carrying a turkey along the street! said the young gentleman; and he began to grow very angry.
"I live at Number 39, Blank Street," answered the young gentleman; "and my name is Johnson."
Soon the carriage turned into another street--a street less carefully guarded.
He turned onto Franz Josef Street, where he was not supposed to have been, and drove right in front of a surprised Princip.
Lamplighters used to light street lamps every night, before the accursed electricity came along.
TO MRS. LAURENCE HUTTON 12 Newberry Street, Boston.
TO MRS. LAURENCE HUTTON 12 Newbury Street, Boston, January 17, 1899. ...Have you seen Kipling's "Dreaming True," or "Kitchener's School?"
TO MR. JOHN HITZ 12 Newbury Street, Boston, February 3, 1899. ...I had an exceedingly interesting experience last Monday.
TO MISS MILDRED KELLER 138 Brattle Street, Cambridge, November 26, 1899. ...At last we are settled for the winter, and our work is going smoothly.
TO MR. JOHN HITZ 138 Brattle Street, Cambridge, Feb. 3, 1900. ...My studies are more interesting than ever.
TO THE CHAIRMAN OF THE ACADEMIC BOARD OF RADCLIFFE COLLEGE 138 Brattle Street, Cambridge, Mass., May 5, 1900.
Though seen but once, it helps to wash out State Street and the engine's soot.
Men come tamely home at night only from the next field or street, where their household echoes haunt, and their life pines because it breathes its own breath over again; their shadows, morning and evening, reach farther than their daily steps.
They gently did away with the street, and the village, and the state in which he lived.
Sometimes one of those great cakes slips from the ice-man's sled into the village street, and lies there for a week like a great emerald, an object of interest to all passers.
Along the Tverskaya Street rode the hussar with mustaches...
Again the crowd of members of the suite and street gazers (among whom was Rostov) moved nearer to the Emperor.
The general bowed his head respectfully, and the monarch mounted and rode down the street at a gallop.
On her way home at an early hour when she met no one but bricklayers going to work or men sweeping the street, and everybody within the houses was still asleep, Natasha experienced a feeling new to her, a sense of the possibility of correcting her faults, the possibility of a new, clean life, and of happiness.
He went out into the street: two men were running past toward the bridge.
Once more something whistled, but this time quite close, swooping downwards like a little bird; a flame flashed in the middle of the street, something exploded, and the street was shrouded in smoke.
Soldiers were passing in a constant stream along the street blocking it completely, so that Alpatych could not pass out and had to wait.
In a side street near the crossroads where the vehicles had stopped, a house and some shops were on fire.
Seeing that his trap would not be able to move on for some time, Alpatych got down and turned into the side street to look at the fire.
Soldiers were continually rushing backwards and forwards near it, and he saw two of them and a man in a frieze coat dragging burning beams into another yard across the street, while others carried bundles of hay.
When he had ascended the hill and reached the little village street, he saw for the first time peasant militiamen in their white shirts and with crosses on their caps, who, talking and laughing loudly, animated and perspiring, were at work on a huge knoll overgrown with grass to the right of the road.
The sun, just bursting forth from behind a cloud that had concealed it, was shining, with rays still half broken by the clouds, over the roofs of the street opposite, on the dew- besprinkled dust of the road, on the walls of the houses, on the windows, the fence, and on Pierre's horses standing before the hut.
Telling the groom to follow him with the horses, Pierre went down the street to the knoll from which he had looked at the field of battle the day before.
"Here is our commanding officer... ask him," and he pointed to a stout major who was walking back along the street past the row of carts.
She had taken a cab and driven home by a side street and the cabman had told her that the people were breaking open the barrels at the drink store, having received orders to do so.
In Kudrino, from the Nikitski, Presnya, and Podnovinsk Streets came several other trains of vehicles similar to the Rostovs', and as they passed along the Sadovaya Street the carriages and carts formed two rows abreast.
But the coachman could not stop, for from the Meshchanski Street came more carts and carriages, and the Rostovs were being shouted at to move on and not block the way.
In fact, however, though now much farther off than before, the Rostovs all saw Pierre--or someone extraordinarily like him--in a coachman's coat, going down the street with head bent and a serious face beside a small, beardless old man who looked like a footman.
Two officers, one with a scarf over his uniform and mounted on a lean, dark-gray horse, the other in an overcoat and on foot, stood at the corner of Ilyinka Street, talking.
Come along then! the publican and the tall young fellow repeated one after the other, and they moved up the street together.
When they reached the Myasnitski Street and could no longer hear the shouts of the mob, the count began to repent.
About the middle of the Arbat Street, near the Church of the Miraculous Icon of St. Nicholas, Murat halted to await news from the advanced detachment as to the condition in which they had found the citadel, le Kremlin.
When they reached the end of the Vozdvizhenka Street they halted and drew in the Square.
To all of them from the marshal to the least soldier, that place was not the Vozdvizhenka, Mokhavaya, or Kutafyev Street, nor the Troitsa Gate (places familiar in Moscow), but a new battlefield which would probably prove sanguinary.
But in the yard there was a light from the fire at Little Mytishchi a mile and a half away, and through the night came the noise of people shouting at a tavern Mamonov's Cossacks had set up across the street, and the adjutant's unceasing moans could still be heard.
In another side street a sentinel standing beside a green caisson shouted at him, but only when the shout was threateningly repeated and he heard the click of the man's musket as he raised it did Pierre understand that he had to pass on the other side of the street.
As Pierre approached that street the smoke became denser and denser--he even felt the heat of the fire.
In the middle of the street stood a French general saying something to those around him.
We'll pass through the side street, by the Nikulins'!
She ran across the street, turned down a side street to the left, and, passing three houses, turned into a yard on the right.
Pierre remembered Ramballe, and named him and his regiment and the street where the house was.
Some twenty men of the Sixth Company who were on their way into the village joined the haulers, and the wattle wall, which was about thirty- five feet long and seven feet high, moved forward along the village street, swaying, pressing upon and cutting the shoulders of the gasping men.
The topic on Sesame Street was professions, which was the perfect opportunity for Lisa to ask her what Giddon did to earn a living.
His attention was on some children playing in the park across the street, so he didn't immediately see her.
I was in a small town, on the main street with cars and people all around.
I could see mountains, high hills, at the end of the street ahead of me.
The town was fairly large with a dozen or so business buildings on each side of the street but, as I said, most were closed.
Store fronts interspersed with vacant lots lined one side of the street while the other remained absent of any buildings except a closed gas station and a dollar store.
The LeBlanc's house is a tiny cape cod, on a dead end street in south Peabody, a Boston bedroom community.
The street he was on looked as it had on the television he said, but the houses were absent numbers so it took him a few moments to locate the correct place.
But sorry, they were as in the dark as the man on the street as to source or circumstance.
We strolled up the main street, rumored to be the widest in the country, but I don't know who measures.
It was past lunch time so the three of us dropped by The Main Street Café for a late lunch.
It was New York and raining pussies and puppies and I was on a street corner with cabs going by one after the other.
Maybe I'll get a room in a high rise hotel, away from street noise.
I had a couple of Sam Adams and a roast beef sandwich and arrived at the 30th Street station in Philadelphia just before four o'clock.
My place was on the street behind theirs, one house over so the corners of our lots touched.
She unfastened the seatbelt, all but falling into the street as he yanked her out.
Cody, sprawled in the middle of the street after being hit by a car, blood trickling from his skull into a nearby storm drain.
She froze at the sight straight out of her vision—the little boy, Cody, spread-eagled in the street near the storm drain.
The images in her mind were of a little boy dying in the street, of Jake's death, of the deaths of many others.
They all enjoyed the Main Street eatery, next to the newly renovated Beaumont Hotel, the queen's-castle of the Victorian town.
They were driving on Main Street when they spotted Fred O'Connor sauntering down from the courthouse chatting with two ladies who looked enthralled by his company.
The woman turned away and began walking down the street, leaving Faust with a disappointed look on his face.
They walked to a corner and turned away from the busy main street onto a quieter side one.
They soon reached an area where the street was sectioned off, and a line of white-topped tents lined the street.
As Benjamin ran down the street, he wondered what he should buy.
The village appeared to me a great news room; and on one side, to support it, as once at Redding & Company's on State Street, they kept nuts and raisins, or salt and meal and other groceries.
Among the men who very soon became frequent visitors at the Rostovs' house in Petersburg were Boris, Pierre whom the count had met in the street and dragged home with him, and Berg who spent whole days at the Rostovs' and paid the eldest daughter, Countess Vera, the attentions a young man pays when he intends to propose.
The whole street was full of clouds of black smoke.
If anyone knows the whereabouts of Josh, last name unknown, contact Miss Edith Plotke on 6th Street.
TO MRS. LAURENCE HUTTON 12 Newbury Street, Boston, October 23, 1898.
It was already quite dark when Prince Andrew rattled over the paved streets of Brunn and found himself surrounded by high buildings, the lights of shops, houses, and street lamps, fine carriages, and all that atmosphere of a large and active town which is always so attractive to a soldier after camp life.
Half the street was in shadow, the other half brightly lit by the sun.
Thirty five miles later he found the address, a private home on the side street of a quiet neighborhood.