Earl was standing by the mailbox when she drove up.

Earl was standing with his arms crossed.

Earl stood at the kitchen door, pale and silent, his eyes wide with terror.

The Earl stood alone in his room, still in his finery.

Earl had stood up and put his hand on the gun inside his coat.

The Earl was standing alone by the south window, his fingers tapping rhythmically at the sill.

The Earl stood in silence for several seconds, then he smiled.

Earl stood at the opposite window, peering for evidence on the floor of the cab.

Earl stood back and watched him for a minute, his hands clasped, brown against the enormous white apron that was wrapped around him.

Earl Strong was standing on a platform.