He stared at the small boy clinging to the man's hand.
The little boy was clinging to his mother as they walked into the nursery class.
A small boy was clinging to his hand and asking if he could have a ride in the balloon.
And the boys now clung close, frightened by the wild men out of the maze.
He was a quiet, frightened boy, always clinging to his mother's skirts.
The boy and the girl clung closer than ever, their lips fastened on each other's.
The poor boy still clung on as if glued to the glass by his blood-stained hands.
After an initial stiffening, the boy relaxed against him, almost clung.
The boy clung to a small tree growing out of the mountainside at a crazy angle.
The boy cried out loud and clung to him.
