Half a dozen of Percival's friends sat at the table with them from time to time.
All is prepared—the table and the feast— With due appurtenance of clothes and cushions.
Blowing out the candle, he advanced to the table and set it down.
She stood by the table, the light from a shaded lamp making her colour glow.
Almost every Barbarian at the table had made his own fortune.
She arose, and would have gone around the table to him, but he met her with open arms.
He led her, unresisting, around to the couch at the other side of the table.
"Another cup of coffee, Mrs. Davis," he said, passing his cup across the table.
One-half of the pink roses were on the table, and one from the other half was in her hair.
He was seated at a table with a variety of papers spread out before him.