caber , auch: kaber

In fact, Caber seemed to be that way with everyone.

He considered Caber in the light of this new information.

But it seemed that Caber was done with him for the moment.

Then the moment passed, and Caber turned to him with a smile on his face.

It was then that Caber finally seemed to notice him.

If successful, the athlete is said to have turned the caber.

Caber dismissed the idea with a flip of his hand.

They crossed the room together and Caber sat down in front of the screen.

And until then, Caber had been as good as his word.

Caber watched him go, a smile spreading across his face.

Then he noticed Caber, who was in line behind him, looking at the casserole.

For a moment, he stared at Caber as if trying to decide what kind of charges to level against him.

He just smiled as Caber was smiling and went back to his lifting.

And like Caber, he was an ensign with a high career ceiling.

After all, Caber was an admiral's son with a spotless record.

"There's more than one way to skin a cat," said Caber.

He wished he could be more of a Caber type.

"Guess it's time to get back to work," Caber said, and swung around to face his monitor again.

An English writer beat him a dozen feet at tossing the caber.

Despite appearances, Caber had allowed the woman in back of them to get him flustered.

He had asked, but Caber didn't seem inclined to offer an explanation.

He didn't even tell Caber that he was out of line.

Was Caber actually saying something good about him?

Caber smiled, but it was the kind of smile that tried to mask pity.

Caber leaned forward, his salmon seemingly forgotten for the moment.