1 She was a woman with a working brain and no work.
2 It was the immemorial male reply to the restless woman.
3 A small spare woman with flaxen hair trotted from the house.
4 "That woman has left damp finger-prints in the air," she said.
5 A soiled man and woman munch sandwiches and throw the crusts on the floor.
6 Miss Bea was a stalwart, corn-colored, laughing young woman, and she was bored by farm-work.
7 In front of it a sagging woman with tight-drawn hair, and a baby bedraggled, smeary, glorious-eyed.
8 She was as unreasonable as an amateur leading woman on a first night, and he was reduced to humility.
9 She remembered visions of herself as a smart married woman in a drawing-room, fencing with clever men.
10 She saw Mr. Marbury, a woman teacher of gymnastics in a high school, a chief clerk from the Great Northern Railway offices, a young lawyer.
11 Most of the crumbs drop on the red plush of the seat, and the woman sighs and tries to brush them away, but they leap up impishly and fall back on the plush.
12 But the fact is that at the motion-pictures she discovered herself laughing as heartily as Kennicott at the humor of an actor who stuffed spaghetti down a woman's evening frock.
13 Thus to the young Sappho spake the melon-venders; thus the captains to Zenobia; and in the damp cave over gnawed bones the hairy suitor thus protested to the woman advocate of matriarchy.
14 Mrs. Elisha Gurrey, relict of Deacon Gurrey the dealer in hay and grain, was a pointed-nosed, simpering woman with iron-gray hair drawn so tight that it resembled a soiled handkerchief covering her head.
15 She fancied that she was slipping through the streets invisible; but when she had passed, Mr. Ludelmeyer puffed into the store and coughed at his clerk, "I seen a young woman, she come along the side street."
16 Inside the shop, a glimpse of bad carbon prints of bad and famous pictures, shelves of phonograph records and camera films, wooden toys, and in the midst an anxious small woman sitting in a padded rocking chair.
17 An old woman whose toothless mouth shuts like a mud-turtle's, and whose hair is not so much white as yellow like moldy linen, with bands of pink skull apparent between the tresses, anxiously lifts her bag, opens it, peers in, closes it, puts it under the seat, and hastily picks it up and opens it and hides it all over again.
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