She put her arms about her neck, and affectionately inquired the cause of her distress.
Mrs. Bines, stooping, took the limp and wide-eyed Paul up in her arms.
The face, neck, and arms of the modest maiden were flushed with indignant crimson.
It always feels like you—like your arms, Mtterchen—and I am tired.
His arms tightened about her as he said the name over and over.