Again Roger held on for all his life, even grabbing one of the bull's horns.

Roger moved as if to strike out, but held his anger, though his face continued to flush.

Roger held the item in his hand, studying it, trying to find some way to put it to use.

Roger was holding the chair and watching the line.

Roger held Elizabeth a while after the forest was quiet.

Under the circumstances she did not think of holding out a hand, but Roger took hers and held it a minute.

Roger was holding a cigarette lighter that he had just flicked.

Roger held the cup, letting me sip slowly.

Roger had been holding his breath, too; he let it out now, with a small rattling sound, and cleared his throat.

Roger gently pulled the thumb away, and held the little fist enclosed in his own.