The book lay on the table in front of them.
She rose and went to the table where the book lay, open.
In front of the body on the desk a book lay open.
She went to where the books lay and gathered them up.
Four books still lay hidden where he had put them.
The books of the law lay, neglected, where they had been dropped.
The book lay between them on the rough, pine table.
Her book lay on the floor beside him, where he had thrown it.
Even with the book and its pictures laid flat before him, he found it hard to believe that such a thing could be.
A book lay on the kitchen table, a key in its silver lock.
