Even though I washed hands and face, and my kerchief, what seemed every few kays, my reddish muddy sweat clung everywhere, even though we saw almost no one on the road, save for an occasional farm wagon, usually empty, headed away from Kyphrien.

("This is not aerobics," Jeff would say, casting gentle aspersions at my jock wear - sneakers and sweats, which I clung to as the last bastions of my maleness.)

Real sweat clung to his face while the vision of violent death clung to his mind.

Despite the chill, cold sweat clung to each of their faces.

He wasn't perspiring any more, but the heavy sweat still clung to his clothes and made them unpleasantly sticky against his body.

Lieberman had taken the tiny funicular that linked the control centre to the dome, sat in the flimsy metal cage as it climbed the hill, feeling the sweat cling coldly to his shirt, looking out across the mountains, across the island, inland toward the Bay of Palma beyond.

When they reached the ramp, cold sweat clung to his face, and he was dizzy from hyperventilating.

The sweat of condensation clung to the outside in minute droplets of moisture.