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One African American woman brandished a pocket-sized copy of the Constitution while marching.

The young man smiled at the girl, as he crushed up the notes and stuffed them into his pocket.

Down in his galleries and chambers where it was dark as a pocket Grandfather Mole enjoyed himself thoroughly.

Absently his hands wandered through the pockets, and found his purse and the money in an outside pocket.

“Of course we know it, sir,” rejoined Fogg, slapping his pocket—perhaps by accident.

Thinking it was a request for employment which he could not offer, Malcolm stuffed it carelessly into a pocket.